All of the Reasons Why
by independentalto
Summary: Of COURSE Fury would come up with a list of things the Avengers shouldn't do. And who would they be if they didn't do them? Everything that can and will happens. They snark. They drink. They...have object wars? Based off of skiddliebop's "They have rules?" One shots in no chronological order. Romanogers, Clintasha, Stony...I play with everything. But Pepperony. Always Pepperony.
1. Paintball wars on the Helicarrier

**Ummm...hi? And welcome? Anyways, to whoever's reading this, thanks, first of all. First fan fiction and I'm kind of nervous. I apologize in advance if anything isn't right. I hope I got it, though...**

**Secondly, I don't own any of this. If I did...yeah. No. I don't. Not even the list. That belongs to skiddliebop. You can go find the list there.**

**Last thing. I'm not going in order with these things. I'm really just going to inspire my muse. And there won't be a regular updating schedule. (If I even get that far haha.) Once a week I'll try, but sometimes there'll be one, or however many I've managed to write up that week. That providing there are people who follow this xD**

**That rigmarole being said, enjoy!**

* * *

1\. Paintball wars on the Helicarrier.

"I thought you said this that was definite?" Clint demanded.

"It is, but we have to capture surveillance before we can move in," Coulson explained. "It's going to take at least 24 hours before we can assert this threat, much less send in the Avengers,"

"So we're going to do nothing on this plane for a day?" Tony moaned.

"Or more," Coulson answered, walking out of the debriefing room.

"Well, this is just great," Clint moaned as soon as Coulson had walked out the door. "I could've been on a date,"

"You're not the only one," Steve and Natasha muttered simultaneously.

"What were you two going to do?" Tony snorted. "Go look at more still-life paintings?" The pair exchanged glances. He actually hadn't been that far off. Not that Tony had to know, of course.

"Personally, I'd rather shoot paint than look at it," Clint moaned, his head hitting the table.

"Paint...shooting...that's it! Barton, you're a genius!" Tony exclaimed.

Natasha snorted. "Well, that's news,"

"Do tell, Friend Stark," Thor enthused. "What is your concept for easing us out of this boredom?"

"No more Wipeout courses," Bruce warned. "Remember what happened last time?" There was a collective wince at the thought. Tony hadn't been able to move for a week.

"Nah, this is less painful," Tony shrugged. "Paintball wars!" Clint and Natasha let out a cheer, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, while Steve and Thor just looked confused.

"How is that any less painful, Tony?" Bruce asked, pained.

"Well-paintball-it's paintball. Better than hitting the floor from twenty feet up!" Tony gesticulated. Bruce cocked his head in a 'touché' gesture, and Tony leapt up. "Give me an hour, tops," he addressed the other Avengers. "Then, the war is on!" He then ran out, leaving a confused Steve and Thor in his wake.

"...someone want to explain to me what paintball is?" Steve asked confusedly. Bruce turned to him.

"Well, it's pretty much war. With paint bullets that aren't fatal,"

"Ah, a contest of strategy!" Thor exclaimed. "I am most accustomed to these. They occur quite often on Asgard!"

"Exactly," Clint agreed gleefully. "But if you're up against two assassins, Iron Man, and super soldier, don't expect to win do easily,"

"Is that a challenge, Friend Barton?" Thor queried forcefully.

"Why, Thor, I believe it is!"

* * *

"Okay, Avengers, here's the rules," Tony was strutting like a proud kid on his birthday.

"Ten points if you hit a recruit. Lose five if you hit someone that's already been hit. There are exactly 564 people on this thing-I made Brucie keep track. Fifteen points if you hit a new wall. Fifty points for Fury, forty for Hill, and thirty for Coulson. If someone hits you for the first time, that's sixty points, then forty, twenty, and nothing if you're last." He paused. "Any questions?"

Silence.

"Excellent," Tony distributed the weapons. "Everyone on this flying death trap has been instructed not to shower-and I've disabled them, just in case."

"I will be in an undisclosed location, recording stats," Bruce announced. "Don't try to shoot me or you will be dead faster than you can say 'Hulk'."

"That being said, pick your starting points," Tony grimly announced. "You've all got ten minutes,"

"Wait!" Clint yelled before everyone dispersed. "I have a bet with the Asgardian god. I'm _so_ acing this war. Anyone in?"

"I'll put fifty on Legolas," Tony wagered. "There's no way Point Break's pulling one over him."

"Same," Bruce agreed. "Sorry, Thor, but this is Clint we're talking about here. You don't stand a chance,"

"I think Thor could top the archer," Steve announced. "I'll put fifty on him,"

"Whatever floats your boat, Cap," Clint shrugged. "I'm still gonna win,"

* * *

Thor was hidden at the entrance to the Helicarrier cafeteria. Surely Midguardians needed sustenance, he reasoned, and what better place to retrieve it? Also, if time permitted, perhaps he could get some Pop-Tarts before continuing with his mission.

"Fall to the power of paint!" Thor leapt into the cafeteria brandishing his weapon. Recruits dived for cover as he fired royal purple paintballs everywhere, screaming as they were targeted.

Soon purple paint was everywhere, and not a single sound could be heard from the cafeteria's inhabitants. Thor, satisfied, sauntered over to the kitchen and grabbing a box of Pop-Tarts. Shooting paintballs was enough to make anyone hungry.

The silence was quickly broken by a ferocious Clint swinging in from the vents. "Die, agents, die!" He was so intent on scoring hits that he didn't notice that Thor had already covered the room. Nevertheless, he still scored a few hits-some Thor had not targeted, and the walls, which had been completely neglected. Cackling to himself, Clint swung back into the vents. Thor was seriously going to regret making that bet.

Still munching on his Pop-Tarts, Thor strolled out of the kitchen, the sight mildly astonishing him. SHIELD agents were cowering under tables, as he'd left them, but instead of his purple paint, they were covered in...black? Surely he'd had the right color!

"What sorcery hath changed the color of the paint I have covered you with?" he demanded.

"N-n-none, P-p-prince Odinson, sir," an agent stammered. "It w-was Agent B-b-Barton, sir,"

"Ah." Thor's face darkened. "Barton shall pay for this."

And with that, he stalked out of the room, leaving several agents to fear for their safety.

* * *

As he crouched in the vents, Clint couldn't help giggling to himself. Not even ten minutes in he'd scored 500 points, tops. Thor was so screwed. Now. On to the next heavily populated area-the weapons room. Not only would there be lots of agents, one of the big winners was sure to be there. Maybe Fury, although it wasn't as likely as Hill or possibly Coulson-

SPLAT.

A paintball whizzed past his head, making him jerk back. Who the hell would know he was in the vents?

His answer was provided when another paintball came at him, hitting squarely in the knee. Clint's reflexes kicked in and his knee shot out from beneath him, landing him on his ass with a solid THUMP. "Damn it!" he whined. "I've been hit!" Then considered his current predicament. "And been knocked flat on my ass,"

The only response was a sultry chuckle as the assailant slipped away. Clint glanced down at his knee, where there was _definitely _going to be a bruise in the coming days.

Red paint. Instantly, Clint's mind connected piece after piece of information. Thor was purple. Besides, the Asgardian prince was entirely too clumsy to get into the vents. Steve would've at least been more polite about it-but his was blue. Tony would've said a monologue complete with fireworks and orchestra. Which only left one person. Which, really, should've been Clint's assumption in the first place, given that she was the only one to even _possess _the ability to get into the vents.

Natasha was going down.

* * *

Lunch break, Steve mused. Of course Tony would start a paintball war during lunch break. It was the perfect time to pick a spot and strategize. Knowing Clint, he would be in the rafters somewhere-Steve made a mental note to look up every now and then, lest he get blasted with black paint. Tony would be in the lab-it was his comfort zone. Most likely, he'd provide some intellect to the scientists there before shooting them. Which only left Thor and Natasha to watch out for. The former because he simply had no strategy, the latter because she was deadly, unpredictable, and extremely accurate. Plus, she'd threatened him with couch time should he win.

At this moment, he was crouched under a table, waiting for the majority of agents to file back into the control room. Here, he reasoned, was the best chance to get Fury, or, at the very least, Coulson. Another solid five minutes passed before Steve concluded that, yes, fifty was a decent number, and began firing.

The effect was instantaneous. Agents dropped like flies, Steve having aimed for the backs of their knees. Some cursed as they tried to identify their assailant. Steve kept his firing intermittent, aiming for inconspicuous places. Anyone else would see only the head or body and assume they weren't hit, Steve figured. It would definitely cost them a lot of points.

Having incapacitated most of the agents in the area, Steve rolled out from under the table. Most of the agents' eyes went wide at the sight of their beloved Captain America holding a paintball gun. Some assumed he'd gone rogue and went into the fetal position, mumbling about their lives. Feeling sorry instantly, he began firing apologies off to anyone who would listen.

"Captain Rogers?"

Coulson's voice cut unexpected through the litany of apologies, alarming Steve. Instantly, Coulson was spattered head to toe in blue paint, leaving an entirely embarrassed super soldier and speechless agent.

"Agent Coulson, I'm so, so, so sorry about that-" Steve began to launch into another apology, but was cut off by Coulson's hand.

"I'm alright," he said faintly, sinking into a chair. "I. Just. Got shot. By. Captain. America. Holy."

"I think he's okay," an agent chuckled. "He's good, Captain Rogers,"

"Oh, alright-" The relief was palpable in Steve's voice.

"ROMANOFF!" Clint's angry voice could be heard in the hallways, and, soon enough, Natasha came racing into the control room, ducking behind a set of machines. Steve quickly ducked, avoiding detection. If he played his cards right, big points would be his.

Seeing no paint on any of the agents in the control room, Natasha began firing away, intensely taking down anyone she saw. Not soon after, Clint bounded in, red knee and all, incapacitating any agent not yet hit. His attention was soon refocused on the spy, however, and the two were soon exchanging paintballs.

It was an exhausting battle to watch. Every time Natasha would shoot, Clint would duck, and vice versa.

"Just what the hell is going on in-" Maria Hill stalked in, only to catch a faceful of black paint. "BARTON!" she fumed, whirling around to glare at him.

"FORTY POINTS ARE MINE, BITCHES!" Clint gloated. His victory was short-lived, however, as he was suddenly covered in blue paint. "What-"

"Not so smart now, are you, Barton-" Natasha's returning gloat was also cut short by a splatter of blue paint. "Rogers," she snarled. "Get out here, now," Her only response was a streak of blond hair as Steve sprinted past her. With a strangled scream, Natasha tore after him. "NO ONE PAINTBALLS ME AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!" Clint followed suit, and soon the trio was running through the Helicarrier's hallways. Every now and then, Natasha would attempt to squeeze a shot off at Steve, but he was simply too quick.

"BARTON!" Thor appeared, wielding his gun and covered in gold paint. Without hesitation, Natasha shot him, earning herself forty points. He resembled Tony's suit more than he did himself, she mused. It was a good look.

In retaliation, Thor focused his crossfire on her, but one flip and she was at the front of the pack. It was off to the weapons lab, where Tony would most likely be. Hiding, no doubt.

* * *

Tony, in fact, _had _been hiding in the weapons lab-but he'd fallen asleep. Something about fatigue and over-reliance on caffeine...whatever it was Pepper had mentioned.

Suddenly, the door to the lab opened, and Natasha charged at him with a war cry, striking him repeatedly in the chest with paintballs. A shot each from Steve, Clint and Thor, and the canvas known as Tony's clothes was complete.

"My clothes," he gasped. Then glanced at his watch. "My Rolex!" He glared dramatically at the other Avengers, who were busy shooting each other. "THIS MEANS WAR!"

Grabbing a rolling chair, he pushed off from the wall, firing at everything he passed. Thor and Natasha looked shocked as they were bombarded with red paint, allowing Clint to shoot her with a whoop. Steve also managed to shoot Thor in an impressive 360° spin, before diving under a table to avoid being shot.

"What are all you motherfuckers doing that has my motherfucking agents covered in motherfucking paint?!" Fury stormed into the room to find each Avenger shooting at each other, with the occasional war cry from Clint or Tony.

The next few moments happened in an extreme slow motion.

Tony, who was still blindly firing in revenge for his watch and clothes, let off an impressive three paintballs in a second. All three splattered across Fury in quick succession, turning him from black to gold. Each Avenger went silent and turned to him, sensing the impending storm. The only things that could be heard was the sound of dripping paint.

Finally, Tony quipped, "Should I pay for dry cleaning, Director Fury?"

* * *

"Well, there's good news and bad news," Bruce strolled into the meeting room later, where the Avengers had been grumpily corralled for the remainder of their time on the Helicarrier. He was carrying a large stack of papers, which landed on the table with a loud SMACK.

"Give us the good news first," Tony groaned. He'd received quite the earful from Fury-he wasn't sure if his ears had stopped ringing yet.

"I've got the winner of the war," Every Avenger perked up at that, sure beyond a doubt that they'd won.

"Well," Clint stood up and stretched. "I'd like to thank the Academy, SHIELD of course, and the lovely Natasha Romanoff for having my back all these years..."

"Sit down, Barton," the spy snorted. "Five bucks says your score was massacred,"

"Barton, you have a total of 25 points," Bruce announced. Clint's jaw dropped to the ground.

"Pay up," Natasha held out a lazy hand. A five-dollar bill was reluctantly pressed in. "I bet it's only because you hit Hill, you dork,"

"But-but-" Clint began to get flustered. "In the cafeteria-I shot so many people!"

"You failed to notice that they had been marked, Friend Barton!" Thor proclaimed joyfully. "I had claim to them first!"

"Which means, if I remember, I get a hundred dollars," Steve smirked.

"Thor, you have 420 points. Not bad for fourth place," Bruce announced.

"These wars of paint are not so unsimilar to the wars of fruit on Asgard," Thor shrugged.

"Tin Man. Third place. 450 points," Tony sat back and grinned. Shooting Fury _and _beating Legolas and Point Break? All in all, not a bad day.

Natasha stood. "I think we can all just accept that I've won this thing, so I'd like to thank SHIELD, obviously-"

"It's not over until the fat lady sings," Clint mildly scolded. "Sit down, Tash,"

"Yeah, Tash," Tony mocked. "Sit down," She shot him the bird.

"Natasha. Second place. 520 points." Bruce sighed, knowing what was to come next.

"WHAT?!" Natasha's squawk rattled the rafters.

"So that means-" Tony began.

"No way-" Clint interrupted.

"I don't believe-" Thor.

"How the fuck did he-" Followed by a litany of Russian curses.

"I won?" Steve exclaimed. Bruce nodded.

"But HOW?!" Clint spluttered.

"Well, he shot Natasha, for starters," Bruce shrugged. "That takes skill." Natasha scowled. "He also shot all of the agents in the control room-"

"No wonder they were all on the ground when we got there," Clint facepalmed.

"Coulson was shot, too." As if on cue, Coulson ran by, shouting,

"I GOT PAINTBALLED BY CAPTAIN AMERICA!"

"The man didn't even shoot Fury," Tony seethed, "and yet he won?"

"Congrats, Steve," Bruce told the captain. "First place. 750 points,"

"Great," Clint muttered. "Not only do I get beaten by an old man who wasn't even around when paintballs were invented, said man happens to be my best friend's boyfriend."

"Anyhow. Bad news." Bruce returned to the subject at hand. "All of this paperwork is yours," Each Avenger slowly turned to the large stack of paperwork, classified into folders with their names on it.

"Черт," Natasha muttered. Steve just facepalmed.

* * *

**Hi again! Reviews are appreciated; constructive criticism is especially appreciated :) If you like what you're reading, follow! :)**

**Oh. And. I ship Romanogers to no end, but some of these will call for Clintasha. **sad face****

**Ah, well. Onwards!**


	2. Tony and Musicals

**Just because I got a favorite. People are awesome :) To SuperWhoPotterAvenge-X. You officially made my day :D**

**I own nothing. Except the creative liberties that (hopefully) worked.**

**Romanogers is the ship unless otherwise stated. Just because I love them so much.**

* * *

20\. Tony shall not be seeing any musicals

_"Good morning Neeeeew Yoooorrk!" _Tony's pitchy voice filled the speakers of every room in the tower, causing a) Natasha to sleepily shoot the living crap out of it-even half asleep she was a perfect shot, b) Thor to halfheartedly throw Moljnir at offending object, effectively breaking it, and c) Bruce turning green enough that alarms were sounded, causing Tony to stop singing abruptly.

"I apologize for the...unexpected wake-up call," JARVIS apologized profusely after the performance had ended. "Miss Potts took Master Stark to see "Hairspray" last night, and I'm afraid he's become slightly... overenthusiastic about the performance numbers,"

"I thought hearing Tony singing the shower was scarring enough," Clint moaned, who'd lived through that experience once without any desire to go through it again. "I think my ears have started bleeding,"

"Miss Romanoff, should I arrange to have a new speaker installed in your room?"

"Not until Tony stops singing those goddamn musicals. I knew there was a reason I declined those missions. At least the opera's sort of depressing,"

"Remind me not to take you to Broadway anytime soon," Steve chuckled. She fixed him with a "you'd-better-not" look, and he put his hands up in surrender, giving her a kiss on the head before sliding out of their bed to make some much-needed coffee.

"And you, Agent Barton?"

"Nah, just deactivate 'em unless for an emergency. I don't feel like letting Stark into my room to replace any tech. I'd do the same for Bruce, too."

"Embodied voice of the residence, I wish to have my speakers removed," Thor sleepily boomed.

"As you wish, Master Odinson."

* * *

"What's crack-a-lacking, dudes?" Tony slid into the kitchen wearing nothing on his feet but socks. "Isn't it a great day to be in New York? _Picture me, just another cool kid on the street, near the Park and the Met. Life is sweet, Yankees on the Bronx pretzels on the street, just how good can it get?" _

"I am so talking to Pepper about this," Bruce grumbled. "The next time she takes Tony to see a musical, it'd better be freaking _Les Mis,"_

"Hey, that one's actually kind of depressing," Steve turned to Natasha, who was in the process of perfecting her coffee. "Maybe we could see-"

"No."

"Aw, Capsicle, don't let her get you down! You know what, Pepper and I will take you to one. How 'bout _Guys and Dolls_? _Fame_? No, wait, I've got it. _Beauty and the Beast. _Y'know, Pep and I can get you the best tickets for any of those, all you have to do is ask-"

"Stark," Steve answered wearily, "I'm not going to see a musical with you,"

"But whyyyyyy?" Tony whined. "_There's only us, there's only this, forget regret, or life is yours to miss_!"

"Я кастрировать вас," Natasha muttered into her coffee. Clint choked into his, and had to leave the room for fear of cracking a joke that would lead to his death.

"Not even just one, man? I promise I won't sing through it or anything!"

"Are there _any _musicals you don't know the words to?" Bruce questioned. Clint, having sobered up, returned with his coffee.

"Not that I know of," he answered. "He sang all of them in between last night and this morning." He turned to Tony. "The vents aren't soundproof, man,"

"Miss Romanoff," JARVIS announced, "your new speaker has arrived. Should I direct the men as to where to place it?"

"No need, J. I'm on my way back anyways," Natasha snatched her mug and headed back to her bedroom. "I can just glare at them and they _should _be able to put it in the right place. Especially if Steve stands there with his shield in the corner,"

"You'd think they'd know to listen to us by now," Steve muttered, following her. "After what happened the last time,"

"_The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, I heard the laughter of her heart in every street cafe-_wait, Natashalie-my speaker-WHAT?!" The fact that Natasha and Steve were replacing a speaker finally registered in Tony's brain. "What happened to the old one?"

Steve paused. "It'd probably be best if you didn't know,"

"What?" Tony demanded. "What happened? Cap? Cap?! JARVIS, tell me what they did!"

"It appears that Miss Romanoff lodged several bullets into the body this morning, sir,"

"SEVERAL BULLETS?!" Tony shrieked. "HOW COULD YOU, YOU TWO?!"

"You sang, Tony," Clint answered in between gulps of coffee. "Believe it or not, you actually sound like Tasha when you sing."

A knife whizzed over Clint's head out of nowhere. It seems the Black Widow hadn't missed that comment. Steve's laughter could be heard all the way from their room.

"Don't make me bring up Budapest, Barton," was the muffled threat that came in reply.

"Then I'll kindly remind you about Tokyo!" he hollered back.

* * *

"Tokyo? What happened in Tokyo?" Steve asked a glaring Natasha. She pointed to the corner, and three moving men scurried to set the supports for the giant replacement speaker.

"It was an undercover mission," Natasha deadpanned. "Got mistaken for Selena Gomez, ended up having to film her music video, long story short, it's got 236 million views on YouTube,"

"And I thought you said you didn't do musicals,"

"And I don't," she answered sweetly through gritted teeth. "So don't ever try, or else your sketchbook may or may not go missing..."

Steve gulped. She was serious.

* * *

"Shot my speaker," Tony muttered to himself, stalking out of the kitchen. "We'll see who has the last laugh,"

* * *

Tony's revenge didn't come until a week later.

Steve was out on a mission, leaving Natasha alone in bed. It was only supposed to be a couple of nights, thank goodness, but the loss of his presence was still there. She'd almost fallen asleep when-

"_The hillllls are aliiiiiiiiiiive with the sound of muuuuuuuusic..." _Natasha's eyes widened as an astonishingly pitchy voice blared through her speakers. He wouldn't dare do this now. Especially when everyone in the tower knew how she got when Steve was on missions. But apparently, Tony felt like risking his life, for he sang on. "_Doe, a deer, a female deer, ray, a drop of golden suuuunnnnn..."_

* * *

The next morning, Tony found himself in the local hospital, wearing one of his suits and surrounded by kids who_ happened _to be huge fans of Iron Man.

"Stark and charity work?" Coulson smirked as he read the report later that day. "There's _got _to be a story behind that,"

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated! Please? I'll work in something for you if you do. And probably put up a new chapter in your honor :D **


	3. Truth or Dare

**I don't own anything. If I did, Fury would have my head on a platter.**

**Romanogers shipping. Do I have to say that every time, or...?**

* * *

55\. There will be no more games of Truth or Dare

"Just one game!" Tony begged the team, who was perched on various couches in the common room. "I promise, it wouldn't even be that bad!"

"For the last time, Stark. No," Natasha only looked up from her book long enough to glare at him.

"Come on, Natashalie," Tony egged, knowing that the name would elicit some sort of response from her. "There's gotta be some juicy secret you haven't told us!" Both Steve and Clint raised an eyebrow at that-if there was one thing the spy revered, it was her secrets. Sometimes even feared them. And she would rather complete some ridiculous dare than air them out.

Natasha seemed to know that, too, for she gave Tony a withering glare in the hopes of discouraging him. When he didn't falter, she sighed, dog-earing her book. "Fine. _Just _this time,"

"YES!" Tony turned to high-five Clint, who simply stared at him.

"I do not understand the premise of this game," Thor announced. "Is this another Midgardian tradition in which I have yet to learn about?"

"It's not one of the fun ones, I can tell you that," Natasha sighed, rubbing her temples. She could already feel the migraine coming on.

"Don't listen to her!" Tony insisted. "She's a spy! Spies _hate _games like these,"

"Which is a fact that you should be aware of, Tony," Steve scolded him. "Have you ever considered _why _she hates these games?"

"Aww. Cute that you're stickin' up for Natashalie, but no." Tony shrugged. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with various alcohols and an empty wine bottle.

"Thor, my friend, the first thing you need to know about this game is that alcohol will always be needed to play it," Clint lectured, reaching for a few cans of beer.

"Yup. Second rule. If Clint needs a certain amount, I'll usually need double," Natasha added, reaching for the choice Russian vodka.

Steve sighed. "I'm going to be scarred for life, aren't I?"

"You won't be alone," Bruce agreed. "We're going to have to remember this forever,"

"I still do not understand," Thor proclaimed. "What exactly undermines this 'Truth' and 'Dare'?"

"The rules are simple, Point Break," Tony settled himself onto the floor, the others following suit. "Someone spins the bottle. Whoever it lands on gets asked 'truth or dare'. Answer accordingly, and then you spin the bottle," Thor nodded his assent, and the game began.

* * *

**Clint**

Him? Oh, great, _him_. And he hadn't even gotten the chance to get properly wasted. Oh, well. Better to slip his secrets now and know what he'd let go rather than wonder just what everyone was laughing at everytime they saw him.

But _Steve_? Did _Steve _have to spin the bottle, of all people? He was probably going to ask some stupid question about...something old-fashioned, for sure. He mentally prepared himself by swigging his drink, setting it down with a CLUNK. "Clint. Truth...or Dare?" There was more questioning in the question than there had to be.

He sighed. "Truth." Besides, how bad could it get?

"What's the girliest thing you've ever done?"

* * *

**Tony **

Well, hallelujah and pass the wine! Who would've thought the Captain had it in him? He'd almost spit out his drink at the look on Clint's face-but of course, this was a 1960 Domaine de la Romanee-Conti. Cost him seven grand. No way in hell any of that was going to waste.

Of course, Tony knew _exactly _what the answer was to Clint's question. The archer had once embarked on an 'emotional movie marathon', with movies such as 'The Notebook', 'E.T.', 'The Fault In Our Stars' and 'Titanic'. He'd claimed it was the answer to every question about relationships, Clint had locked himself in his room for a week, having his status posted as 'on a mission'. And okay. _Maybe _Tony had joined him for one or two movies. But only for 'The Notebook' and 'The Fault In Our Stars'. Just so he could _finally _understand why Pepper burst into tears whenever he mentioned the name Hazel. No, he certainly had not stayed for 'Titanic'. And definitely hadn't cried at it. No, siree.

"SomaybeIwatchedTheNotebook," Clint muttered. "AndET. AndTheFaultInOurStars. AndmaybeTitanic,"

"I thought you were all muscles and macho, Barton," Bruce struggled not to laugh.

"I didn't catch that," Steve said politely. "You're going to have to spit it out," Tony stifled a laugh. If he hadn't known better, he would've sworn Steve was purposely tormenting Barton.

"I watched 'The Notebook'," Clint spat out. "And a bunch of girly-cry movies. Okay?" He glared at Bruce and Natasha, who were extremely close to losing it. "Let's just play,"

* * *

**Thor**

This game was quite the Midgardian tradition, he mused. Insofar, he'd learned that Lady Natasha had once impersonated a horse (Thor hadn't exactly understood the circumstances,), Friend Stark had eaten a rabbit burger (Steve had had to explain the concept of a burger.), and, of course, Friend Barton's lapse in manliness. Thor considered that quite weak. If someone on Asgard had done something of the caliber, they would have been exiled quickly.

It was now his turn to spin the bottle. Careful not to exert his strength, the bottle was precariously spun. Ah, Friend Stark! How delightful this would be! "Friend Stark! Truth or dare?"

Stark had simply laughed, having consumed one too many alcoholic drinks. "Dare, of course, Point Break!" Thor was momentarily stunned.

"Eh...I have no knowledge on how to do these...dares,"

"Ooh, ooh, I'll do it for you!" Clint, equally intoxicated, seemed all-too-happy to acquiesce. He dramatically put a finger to his chin, pretending to think. "Stark," he said finally, "I dare you to film yourself in one of your suits singing Ariana Grande's 'Problem'," He turned to Thor. "You okay with that, good buddy?"

"It is a well-thought out dare, Friend Barton," Thor mused. "I do not have any recollection unto who this 'Ariana Grande' is,"

"Yeah, people talk about her a lot," Steve added. "Who is she?"

Clint chuckled, catching the murderous look on Natasha's face. "My advice, don't look her up when Tasha's around," Steve turned to see the look on his girlfriend's face, then nodded solemnly in agreement.

"I wish I was actually sober to see this," The spy swore, downing some more vodka.

"I don't," Clint swigged another beer. "You only live once," Bruce had left, presumably to get a camera.

"Which suit?" Tony mumbled, reaching for the whiskey, Clint having drunk all of the beer.

"You have more than one, Friend Stark?" Thor demanded. The choices on Midgard seemed to be endless!

"Just pick one," Steve buried his head in his hands.

"Alright," Tony unsteadily held his arm out for the latest Mark. As the suit assembled around him, Bruce returned with a camcorder. "Someone find me a karaoke track,"

"Done," Clint announced, fiddling with his phone. He walked over to the speakers in a remarkably straight line for someone so drunk. "In the system and ready to go,"

"Brucie, start the camera," Tony slurred.

* * *

**Steve**

He'd thought things were bad when Clint had announced the dare. Even worse when Bruce had showed up with the camera. But noooo-

"Hi. I'm Iron Man!" Tony exclaimed into the camera with a voice that could only be described as a kid's on sugar. Another facepalm was in order. While beer usually just left an ugly hangover for the billionaire, Steve knew, whiskey jazzed Tony right up and left for an even worse hangover. "Right now, I'm going to cover 'Problem'. As suggested by Legolas over here," Bruce panned over to Clint, who spastically waved.

"And in 3...2...1..." Clint flipped the switch. Steve sighed resignedly and reached for a beer. Natasha, taking pity on him, handed her vodka over with a knowing look. After all, if he was going to _try _to get drunk, might as well do it right...right?

* * *

**Bruce**

If he hadn't been holding the camera, he would've liked to have been somewhere very, very, _very _far away at this point. Tony was belting out all of the notes in a grand falsetto, with the occasional twerk thrown in. Steve was downing Natasha's vodka like a champ, although Bruce was sure that it had no effect on him. The woman in question was just lazily watching, her interest flickering between the impromptu video and her boyfriend's new interest in Russian vodka. Thor, enraptured, was bobbing along with the mutilated tune. Clint was growing more excited by the lyric, and by the end of the second chorus, it was plain to see why:

_Small money bettin' I'll be better off without you _

_ In no time I'll be forgettin' all about you_

_ Sayin' that you know it but I really really doubt you_

_ Understand my life is easier without you_

_ Iggy Iggy to biggie to be here stressin'_

_ I'm thinkin' I like the thought of you more than I love your presence_

_ And the best thing now is probably for you to exit_

_ I let you go_

_ Let you back_

_ I finally learned my lesson_

_ Ain't half steppin either you want it or you just playin'_

_ I'm listenin' to you can't believe the words that you're saying_

_ There's a million yous baby boo so don't be dumb_

_ I got ninety-nine problems but you won't be one_

Surprisingly enough, Tony rapped every single lyric on beat. Clint's mouth had fallen open, but had closed again when Tony had gone for the high notes. When he'd finished, he'd done a large, theatrical bow. "Subscribe!" With a wink and a point to the camera.

Bruce turned the camera off. Oh, if only he could get drunk...

* * *

**Natasha**

So far, so good.

She hadn't let slip any _huge _secrets (like how she'd totally fangirled over Steve before they'd been dating. Or that she spent her spare time baking. Clint and Tony would never let her hear the end of it. Who did they think made those awesome cupcakes, anyways? Pepper?). She'd chosen to do the dares instead, opting for some of the more risque ones. (Clint had tried to make her rap "Fancy" by Iggy Azalea, but one look and he'd succumbed, handing her a ukulele instead and daring her to sing "The Moon Song". She'd happily obliged to that one, causing Steve to blush and bury his head in his hands.)

But everything threatened to crash down right down on her with this spin of the bottle. The bottle spun dangerously close to her, but, in a last second of recognizance, spun to Tony.

"Stark," Clint rubbed his hands in glee. "Truth or Dare?"

"Gimme a dare!" Tony exclaimed. Clint spared a glance to Natasha, who just scowled. This wasn't going to turn out well, was it?

"Stark, I dare you to drink Tasha's vodka. All of it," To illustrate her protest, Natasha rasied her bottle and began drinking as quickly as possible, hangover in the morning be damned. No one, and she meant _no one _(with the exception of Steve. But then again, when was he _not _her exception?) was going to drink her vodka. Not unless they wanted to die. Painfully.

Tony, eager to complete the dare and blissfully unaware of her murderous intentions, drunkenly swiped the bottle out of her hand and drained what was left. Then, for good measure, stole the bottle she'd handed Steve and quaffed that as well.

There was a few tense beats of silence. Natasha sat in semi-shock, hardly believing what Tony had just done. He was _so _going to regret this in the morning. Tony, unaware of the impending situation, simply kept drinking.

Finally, she spoke in an incredibly calm voice that even had Steve scooching away. She'd make it up to him later, she decided. "Bruce,"

"Yes?" he echoed.

"You may or may not want to film the last minutes of Stark's life,"

Slowly, Bruce held up a camera and began recording.

* * *

The next morning, Tony woke up in his bedroom with a hangover the size of Asgard, and a very, very, _very_ irate Pepper Potts.

"You have three bruised ribs, a laceration on your forehead, a twisted ankle, and a busted elbow," she rapidly snapped. "Mind telling me what happened?" Tony searched for some sort of recollection, something, _anything_, that would tell him what happened the night before. Nothing came up.

"Ah. Good, Tony. You're awake," Bruce strolled him, looking fresh, chipper, and not the slightest bit hungover. At the look on Tony's face, he smirked. "Pepper told you, huh?"

"What happened, Brucie?" Tony rasped, then winced at the sound of his own voice.

"What _always _happens," he deadpanned. "You got wasted, let loose way too much information, and pissed off Natasha,"

"Again?" Pepper demanded. Comprehension then dawned on her face. "How many times have I told you guys _not _to play Truth or Dare? You _know _Nat hates Truth or Dare!"

At SHIELD headquarters, as a drunk Iron Man danced across the screen singing Ariana Grande, Phil Coulson asked himself the same question before heading to get the appropriate paperwork for these types of situations.

* * *

**As always...read and review! Please? Give an author some joy before junior year crushes her like a bug...the offer of mentions still stands. Plus an hour with Cap's shield. Seriously.**


	4. Harry Potter

**AANNNND THE SHIELD GOES TO SuperWhoPotterAvenge-X! Come on, Steve, it's not like you'll need it for this one anyways...you're more likely to need a wand...**

**Shoutout to marykatebooks for following! :)**

**And, as always, we're shipping Romanogers here.**

* * *

11\. Try to give everyone roles from Harry Potter

**Clint**

_He was so going to hell for this. _

Clad in tattered robes, a cane strapped to his back, and a strap-on monocle attached to his face, he crawled along the vents of Avengers Tower, dead bent on pulling off the greatest role play prank over. Finally, he reached the designated vent. Stealthily lifting the cover off (after all, he _did _inhabit the vents for a reason,) and placing it next to him, he now had a bird's-eye view-no pun intended-of the sleeping quarters of the tower's resident soldier and spy.

_They looked so much cuter when they were sleeping, didn't they? _Mentally berating himself for that sentimental thought-he could leave those for Thor and his Pop-Tarts-Clint lowered his Stark-issued megaphone into the room. Silently clearing his throat. This was it. The next minute and a half would determine his life. Okay, maybe it wasn't _that _serious-who was he kidding? He was about to piss off _Natasha, _for heaven's sake. The Black Widow. The world's greatest assassin. Oh, was he screwed.

Yup, the next ninety seconds would _definitely_ determine whether he lived or not. He was totally going to hell for this. Oh, well. At least he would go out laughing.

"If I die," he silently whispered, "Bobbi gets everything,"

* * *

**Natasha**

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Instantly, she was up and at the ready, pistol already firing at the vents. Between each bullet she could hear the faint "Oh shit, oh shit, shitshitshitshit..." She stopped firing and squinted. Then, in a split decision, fired off once more, and Clint fell to the floor of her bedroom, in robes, cane, and a weird eye thing.

"Barton," The surname was pronounced quietly but threateningly enough to make anyone quake in their boots. "What. The. Hell."

"Ah, Ms. Weasley," Clint, always unabashed, stood up and dusted himself off. "Can't say I didn't expect this,"

She'd refocused her gun on him again. "Who the hell is-"

"STARRRRK!"

Steve came tearing into the bedroom, completely unaware of the stares he was getting from the archer and spy. She said nothing, only raised an eyebrow as the great Captain America barreled into the bathroom. One could only hope he didn't look where he wasn't supposed to.

"Potter!" Clint called to the now livid man in the bathroom. "You and Weasley, eh?" Slowly, Steve emerged from the bathroom, and it was only then that she got a good look at him. He was still handsome as ever, but this time in a...different way. Instead of his trademark blond, Steve's hair was now a jet-black color, rumpled and refusing to stay down. She squinted. Was that a _scar _on his forehead?

"Anyways, you two, let me know when you plan your engagement," Clint was blabbering. "Best that I start planning my retirement at that point, who _knows _what could happen with the spawn of a Weasley and a Potter-" He was cut off by the voice of an irate billionaire a few floors up.

"BARTON! WHY IS MY HAIR RED?"

* * *

"I feel it is wise to wonder of my appearance," Thor commented, later in the communal kitchen. "Why is it that I sport a long, scraggly beard that encompasses my head, and seem to be twice my height? Also, what is with this umbrella?"

"Your wand got snapped in half when you were in your third year," Clint answered matter-of-factly, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "All of your magic is in your umbrella. Not that you can do much, anyways,"

Tony hadn't said anything since they'd all met each other in the kitchen. It was assumed he was still getting over the shock of his hair being akin to that of a carrot's. The occasional sob emerged every now and again, but most of the time he was left alone.

"Oh get _over _it, Weasley," Clint rolled his eyes. "It's just your stupid-"

Natasha had plunked down her coffee mug faster than you could say 'spilled'. "I am _so not-_"

"Nah. You two aren't bonded in holy matrimony," Clint dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Weren't you listening earlier?"

"I was deciding whether to kill you or not," she moodily mumbled, picking up her coffee to inhale once again.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

An angry Pepper Potts stalked into the kitchen, bushy brown hair close to crackling. Thor let out a small snort of laughter, quickly reigning it in at her glare. "If this is another one of your so-called pranks, Tony, then I swear-"

"Pep. Not now," Tony half-wailed. "My hangover hurts, my coffee sucks, and my hair. Is. RED!" All of this was uttered with Tony's head still half-buried in his arms at the kitchen island.

"Huh. So it wasn't you," She raised an eyebrow towards Steve's black hair and scar, Natasha's now long and straight (but still red) tresses, Clint's bizarre getup, and lastly, Thor's beard. There was a large possibility of having insects in it.

There was a small recoil from the beard. It really did smell.

"Hey, wait a minute. Where's-?" Steve was cut off by a multitude of chirps. Each Avenger fished out their phone, Tony with some reluctance, and proceeded to read the following email (albeit with some difficulty from Steve and Thor).

_Avengers:_

_Myself and Agents Hill and Coulson would like to know the meaning of this_

_ immediately. _

_Director Fury_

Attached were three pictures: one each of Fury, Hill, and Coulson. Each hero's eyes went wide as they tried to process what they were seeing. Fury looked more African than anything, regal and proud, and utterly peculiar with his eye patch, which had once looked familiar. Coulson hadn't looked much different, only more blonde, and his features schooled into a more innocent visage. Clint burst out laughing as he saw that Coulson had been holding a camera.

"Looks like Coulson's even more of a fanboy now," Tony snickered, having forgotten about his horribly red hair.

"At least his hair still gets to be normal," Pepper muttered, then reconsidered her statement. "Or. At least he had hair." That seemed to set Tony off, for he buried his head in his hands again.

But Thor couldn't stop staring at his phone.

"Thor?" Pepper asked tentatively. "Is everything alright?"

"L-la-lady Hill," Thor stammered. "It appears she's gone quite mad!" Everyone else referenced the email to see what he was talking about. Surely enough, there was Hill, only she looked completely... old. Her hair was still in its trademark severe bun, only with hints of gray. Wrinkles and facial marks were present in the plenty. Moles, freckles... everything. And she did _not_ look happy.

"Kingsley, McGonagall, and Colin Creevey, " Clint chuckled under his breath. "And may I say that all worked out perfectly, "

"You'll be next, Mudbloods!" They all spun around to find...a blonde Loki?

"AHHHHH! IT BURNS!" Tony faked-cried, cringing.

"Oh, please, Weasley," Loki retorted. "Have you even_ looked _in the mirror lately? Oh, wait, I forgot, your family _doesn't own one,"_

"...Weasley...?" Pepper echoed, looking back and forth between Natasha and Tony. The redheaded spy in question chugged more coffee in response, as if denying the connection.

"So." Bruce's voice was tinged with a slight amount of amusement as he walked into the kitchen. "I gotta say, Clint, you really hit the nail on the head with this one. Who'd you get to help you, Loki?"

"Loki?" the man in question snarled. "My name is _Draco Malfoy, _you filthy half-breed. My father will hear about this!" And with that, he stopped from the kitchen, muttering curses like "half-breed" and "Damn Mad-Eye".

"I'll take that as a yes," Bruce smirked, reaching for a mug. Surveying the various Avengers, his smirk grew into a chuckle. "Even got our ships, huh?"

"Please don't tell me-" Natasha's voice was sarcastically desperate. Bruce looked between her and Tony, then to Steve, and shook his head. She sighed in relief, and continued to guzzle her coffee as if nothing had happened. Without a word, Steve slid his mug over to her, which she picked up and began to down.

"Potter and Weasley, check." He nodded towards Steve and Natasha. "Weasley and Granger, check. Vain Weasley and smart Granger, double-check. Granger having to put up with Weasley, triple check,"

"Hey!" Tony muffled.

"It's true," Bruce shrugged. "Coulson as fanboy, excellent and accurate choice. Fury as Kingsley. Kingsley's still cooler."

"Hell hath nothing like Fury scorned," Clint joked, earning an eye roll from Pepper.

"And Hill as McGonagall? Rather fitting...Thor, my friend, you are accurate on so many levels I don't even know where to begin,"

"How 'bout by telling us _what the hell is going on_, and WHY MY HAIR IS RED?!" Tony yelped.

"...and why Thor has a beard the length of Midgard, why Clint's dressed like a hobo, and _why my hair is bushy," _Pepper threatened. Evidently, she hadn't taken it well, either. She was just better at hiding it than Tony.

"I'm Mad-Eye Moody," Clint defended. "I'm _supposed _to look ragged. It's part of my attire,"

"Hate to break it to you, but you don't look too great yourself, Bruce," Natasha answered nonchalantly.

"Course not," Bruce shrugged. "I'm a werewolf. And a member of the Order,"

"What the hell is the Order?" Tony demanded. "And why. Is. My. Hair. Red?!"

"Seriously? None of you have ever read _Harry Potter?_" Bruce asked in disbelief.

Several blank stares.

And so that was how, a week later, each Avenger woke up with a locked door and a complete box set of _Harry Potter. _Clint and Bruce were determined not to let anyone out until they'd finished the entire series, and had formulated some sort of opinion on whether Severus Snape was indeed a hero or a villain.

* * *

**Reviews make my day! Don't let this writer be crushed..provide something? Winner gets an Invisibility Cloak to dye Nat's suit pink! (Because we all know we want to.)**


	5. Practice Target Dummies

**Two days of junior year down! And...you know..178 to go. I'm already in danger of failing physics. If only I had Bruce...or Tony. I NEED TO PASS THIS CLASS. **

**Shoutout to my newbies! Evie McPhey, sass-mistress-lucifer, 1998, bonnybblue, and beverlie4055. Thanks so much! :)**

**And to SuperPotterAvenge-X. Your reviews are like mine whenever I review stuff. You are **_**so **_**awesome for that. :D I'm giving you that bottle of pink dye and the Invisibility Cloak-just make sure you blame Tony, 'kay?**

**Last thing. I swear. Although it pains me to say this, our resident ship here is Clintasha. *cries* I had to. Steve can't shoot for his life. At least, not like Clint. Anyways. Onwards!**

* * *

41\. Teammates are not target practice dummies.

"Jesus, Tash. You really can't shoot for shit, can you?"

Natasha looked up to see Clint hanging out of a vent, watching interestedly as she finagled with a bow and arrow. Her previous shots were scattered all over the training room, some sticking out of various targets, the sparring mats, and the lone flyer embedded in Steve's punching bag, its beans slowly spilling out.

"And yet you continued to ask me why I preferred .22s," she stated flatly.

"Because I didn't think the infamous Black Widow was actually _bad _at something," he teased back. A knife was thrown up at the vent with deadly accuracy, missing Clint's head by an inch.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she passively remarked, with the slightest undertones of a threat that made Clint bite back his next remark.

Instead, he dropped out of the vent. "Here. I'll help you." Picking up his own practice bow from a corner of the room, he came to stand next to her. "Take your stance." She immediately complied, notching an arrow into the bow, feet apart and ready.

Clint spied the problem immediately. "You're too tense," he instructed. "Tilt the bow to the right a bit so that the arrows won't fall." He notched his own arrow in example. When the completely clueless spy (how often did that happen?) dropped another arrow in tilting the bow too far, he put his arms around her in an effort to fix that. "Just _slightly _to the right...there." Noticing that her grip was off, he covered her hand in his to adjust that as well. "You only need two fingers on the string, Tash. Yup. There we go. Now, pull back-gently!-"

"We teaching the way of the bow and arrow, Legolas?" Tony appeared at the door of the room, supposedly on a reprieve from his lab. He waggled his eyebrows at the pair's compromising position. The implication was so obvious it would've taken someone as innocent as Steve to miss it.

"Shut it, Stark," Natasha growled, and Tony put his hands up in surrender, laughing.

"Alright, alright!" he exclaimed, then winked at Clint. "But just let me know if we're having baby assassins running around anytime soon." He ducked as Natasha whirled around to fire at him, her shot going way over his head and embedding itself in the doorway.

"Clint, how many times have I told you not to shoot at Tony-oh. Ma'am," Steve stopped short at the entrance to the training room and blushed at the sight of Clint and Natasha together. "Am-am I interrupting something?"

"No," Natasha grumbled, lowering her bow. "Clint's just teaching me to shoot,"

"And man, I'm telling you, she's so bad at it that even-" Clint's laugh was cut off as another arrow was point at him, this time without any doubt that Natasha would score a hit.

"Couch time, Barton," was all she said. "Couch time," Clint swallowed audibly.

"Oookay," Steve announced. "I'm just going to back out slowly and pretend none of this ever happened..." He was doing just that when he caught sight of the shot punching bag. He froze. _"My punching bag!"_

Clint winced. "Yeah, Cap...sorry 'bout that..." Steve left the room, palpably distressed.

"And now that we've managed to scar our good captain for life, let's go back to the lesson," Natasha brought up another arrow, squinting at the target. "Don't squint at the target, Tash. It throws off your perception of the target,"

"But I always squint when I shoot!" she whined.

"Who's the archer here?"

She huffed in defeat. "You are,"

"Exactly. Open your eyes, babe," Clint shot her a cheeky grin, knowing she hated the nickname. "Relax..." He placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling them relax instantly. "Deep breath, and...shoot."

The arrow landed right in the target's center, much to their surprise as well as Thor's, who had entered.

"Lady Romanoff!" he exclaimed. "I did not know you possessed knowledge of the bow and arrow!"

"I didn't," she admitted. "Clint just taught me,"

"Friend Barton!" Thor enthusiastically turned to him. "Perhaps you are able to instruct me as well?" Clint paled at that-he really had no desire to get up close and personal with Thor-and archery required a _lot _of close instruction.

Natasha chuckled. "I'm not sure he could handle it, Thor," she offered. "Why don't I teach you instead?"

Clint's face grew even paler, lightening to almost white. "Just-just don't break the practice arrows,"

"Clint can help us, can't he?" she challenged the archer, turning towards him with a wicked glint in her green eyes. "He'll show me where I'm going wrong, _won't you, Clint?" _With the look on his girlfriend's face and Thor's puppy dog look, Clint had no choice but to give in.

"Fine," he announced, then turned no Natasha. "But I am not touching him...under any circumstances,"

* * *

An hour later, Thor and Natasha were shooting almost as accurately as-dare they say it-Clint.

"I think it's time to up this to the next level, Thor," Natasha said, neatly sending an arrow into the center of a target as Clint looked on in horror.

"I agree, Lady Romanoff," Thor answered, shooting another arrow into his designated target. "I propose some type of contest,"

"Plungers," Clint muttered faintly. It was the first word he'd uttered since the spy and god had completely devastated his reputation as an archer. "Whoever hits the most teammates in an hour wins." Natasha and Thor looked at each other and shrugged.

"Fine by me," she answered.

"I shall go prepare for this contest!" Thor happily declared, sauntering out of the room. Natasha turned to Clint.

"Any idea on where to get all these plungers?"

"Tony once bought a bunch trying to make a plunger gun," Clint answered dully. "They should be down in storage,"

"Aw, is somebunny upset that I destroyed their weputation?" she mocked, jumping onto his back. "'Cause you know, I learned everything I needed to know from my teacher,"

"You're just saying that so I won't bet against you," he smirked.

"Why in the world would you bet against me?" She had an adorable pout, Clint observed. It really was quite a shame he didn't get to see it more often. "You're mine,"

"Not until you say it," he grinned. "Repeat after me: 'Clint, you're my boyfriend.' It's honestly not that hard, Nat."

"In your dreams." She slid off of his back and headed out of the training room. "You're going to regret not supporting me," she warned.

Clint chuckled to himself. "I don't think so,"

* * *

_Sometimes Tony really could be a handful, _Bruce thought as he headed to the kitchen. The billionaire had recently discovered that his entire stash of plungers had gone missing, prompting a search of the entire tower. The panicked, frantic way Tony was looking would've made one think it was his own kids he was looking for.

The man in question skidded into the kitchen as Bruce calmly poured himself a cup of tea. "Have you seen the plungers, Brucie?"

SQUISH.

A plunger sailed in between the two of them, attaching itself to the kitchen cabinet. Another quickly followed, this time nearly missing Bruce's mug.

"Huh. Looks like I found them," Tony mused, walking over to examine them. "Two of 'em, at least. Which I guess is better than none, I suppose, given that-"

SPLUQSH. The rest of Tony's sentence was muffled as his face was covered with a black and red plunger. Somewhere, they heard a quiet cheer of "Headshot!"

"I _swear _I heard Stark start talking and then shut up, just like that-" Clint came into the kitchen, stopping at the plunger protruding from Tony's face. "Guess it's started, then,"

"_What's _started, Barton?" Tony had managed to pull the plunger off with a large squelch, although leaving a large red circle on his face. "And why are my children-I mean plungers-involved?"

Clint was spared an answer as another plunger, this time red and gold, hit him in the back, causing him to double over.

"I have hit Friend Barton!" There was no mistaking Thor's voice. Where it'd come from remained to be seen. Clint wriggled, trying to dislodge the plunger to no avail. He scowled at Tony.

"Stark, why can't I get the damn thing off?"

"You must have one of the super grippy ones," Tony answered dismissively. An _oof _could be heard as a plunger hit him in the stomach. No matter how much he pulled, the projectile would not come off. "...And it looks like I do too,"

"Why have there been plungers all over the tower?" Steve queried, joining them. "They're following me everywhere I go," A plunger flew past his head. "Point made."

"War," Clint rolled his eyes. The eye roll was answered with a knocking plunger to the back of his head, red and black in all its glory. "And some of them, according to Stark, don't come off,"

"War?" Bruce raised an eyebrow at him.

"...so maybe I taught Nat how to shoot a bow," he defended. "And maybe she taught Thor."

"There's a war," Steve began, "between Thor and Ms. Romanoff based on their _archery _skills?" He received a plunger to the back of the head. Clint nodded, not trusting his tongue. Natasha could've been anywhere. One slip and he would have a plunger to the face. Steve tugged experimentally at the plunger on the back of his head, frowning when it refused to come off. "I'm going to guess yes...are we target practice dummies?"

"15 MINUTES!" Clint hollered into thin air. Instantly, the air was thick with plungers. Red, black and gold were simply blurs as they began to hit various surfaces.

"Well, I'm sure as hell not going to make it easy for them," Tony, ever the show-off, called a suit to him, while Steve simply nodded and began to expertly dodge the shots. Bruce just shook his head and took cover under the refuge of the kitchen island. The sounds of the repulsors soon filled the air as Tony regretfully blasted his precious plungers to pieces.

Clint, on the other hand, climbed straight up into the vents, where he knew he'd find his girlfriend. _And unlike her, he had no problem applying labels. _He found her crouched at a vent opening, continually shooting plungers every which way. Between the constant squelching of the plungers, Tony's repulsors, and Thor's war cries, Natasha never saw him coming.

"MOTHER RUSSIA!"

Natasha, truly and honestly startled, jumped and fell out of the vent with a yelp, knocking the air out of her as she landed on her back. It was the first time she'd ever been scared like that, and the shock on her face was so comical Clint burst out laughing. Add in a plunger hit from Thor, and he was close to falling out of the vent himself.

Now on the floor, Natasha aimed a plunger up at the vents. No one had _ever _gotten the drop on her. The Red Room had made sure of that. And now she'd been topped by her immature archer boyfriend? Not on her watch. The rubber red and black missile hit Clint right in the face, and he'd fallen out of the vent with a yelp quite similar to hers. In one fluid move, she rolled to the left, leaving Clint to hit the floor, drew an arrow (she'd stolen one from his nest stashes,) and shot Tony in the right butt cheek.

"I'VE BEEN SHOT IN THE ASS!" Tony yelped, sending off a stray repulsor beam. There was instantly a gaping hole in the kitchen wall, which no one paid any attention to. Thor took the opportunity to let off several shots in glee, causing more misguided defense attempts, blasting the couch, shattering a window, and blowing up the kitchen island, exposing a dumbfounded Bruce, mug halfway to his lips.

Natasha looked over at Clint, who was still defeatedly lying on the floor, plunger attached to his face. "Don't even think about getting into bed tonight, _babe_," she quipped, tweaking the plunger. A muffled groan could be heard in response. "Or for the next week,"

"Ooh, someone's been sent to the doghouse!" Tony drawled in a falsetto, fending off Thor's assault.

Natasha simply buried another arrow into his left butt cheek.

"I'VE BEEN DOUBLY SHOT!" he shrieked girlishly, shooting off another beam. The beam went through the shattered window, causing each Avenger to turn in shock as the beam collided with Grand Central Station, the glass windows caving in.

Silence.

Thor was the first to speak. "I believe the victory is mine?" Tony, and Steve looked themselves over. Thor's red and gold plungers could hardly be seen through the sea of red and black ones.

"I think this one's Natasha's, buddy," Bruce answered just as Steve's cell phone rang. The god's shoulders slumped as the soldier fished out the contraption, pressing the TALK button.

"Steve Rogers,"

"Would you care to tell me why the commuters at Grand Central are cowering in fear of the possibility of ANOTHER Chitauri attack?!" Nick Fury's enraged voice rang out from the speaker.

Wordlessly, Steve handed the phone to Tony.

* * *

**Reviews? Please? I can't believe I'm reduced to begging! Junior year, you suck. And it's only been two days! Best one gets Tony's plunger blueprints! (Because clearly, they're awesome.) And no. 'More please!' is not eligible for any story prizes I give out. But reviews still make my day! Especially good ones :D**


	6. Bruce and Taylor Swift Songs

**I'm aliivveeee! Barely by the skin of my teeth, though. It seems like everyone in my AP Physics class gets it but me. It's not that I don't get the physics (at least I think) it's that I have a mental block with the thinking of the physics and me. I can't THINK out the physics. Or do algebra. Also, the teacher is absolutely satanic. And I took an AP Lit test today, so we'll see how that went... I've seriously considered dropping French at least three times this week. **

**I've decided that the update days will be Friday, just because they're a good release of my creative juices and because fanfiction is like my reward for making it through a week. So at least it's regular! :D**

**Shoutout to ugaddan, Libbytheblackcat (be prepared for physics questions! I've determined I'm drowning in physics D:) and Reyna G. Daughter of Bellona! (Hope that the Captasha doesn't deter you! I will have more Clintasha, I promise.)**

**Our ship here-Romanogers. I'm working on expanding my skills in terms of ships, so...**

* * *

A sleepy god of mischief stumbled into the kitchen one morning, fully intent on finding sustenance to fuel his sleepy cells. Steve, being the only sentient being awake, casually looked up from his paper with a "Morning." Loki nodded in response, and reached out a hand in search of the coffee grounds.

Clint was next to stumble in, his walk being more of a sleepy plod as he opened the fridge and shuffled around for the milk. There was no comment-Clint had the habit of spending late nights up with Bobbi Morse, and Steve had learned (along with several prods from Natasha) not to say anything.

There was a slight _ding _from the coffee machine as it finished brewing, Loki immediately held his mug under the spout, his conscious growing with the level of coffee in his cup. In his journey from the brewer to the island, a small amount spilled from his mug to the floor, but was infinitesimal enough that it wouldn't be noticed.

"Good weather we're having this morning," Steve commented.

"Weather?" Clint grumbled. "I haven't even looked out of the window yet. Weather, my ass,"

"That's cause you're still struggling to walk," Loki sniggered. Clint swiped at him, which the god nimbly dodged by slipping off of his stool.

He almost would've made it...had he not slipped on the small puddle of coffee on the floor.

A shocked look on his pale features, Loki fell in slow motion, reaching out a hand to find any sort of support. He found it in the form of the coffee machine; unfortunately, it wasn't a means of permanent support, for he crashed to the ground, taking the coffee machine with him.

Steve and Clint (who'd stifled a yawn) looked down at the god, who was now sprawled out on the tile, machine parts and coffee all over him.

"I give this five minutes," Clint announced, slipping off of the chair. "Yell if you need me."

"I heard a noise, what's going-IS THAT MY COFFEE MACHINE?!" Tony stumbled into the kitchen, half-asleep, but instantly jolted awake at the sight of Loki on the floor with his beloved coffee maker. The god barely managed a nod in response. Several emotions crossed over Tony's face in the span of a few moments, including shock, anger, sadness, and finally settled on dramatic despair.

"Capsicle." he stated. "I'd clear the area. I don't need any witnesses." Steve just rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, still reading his paper. Tony then launched himself at Loki, tackling him to the floor. In between blows, he grunted, "You-broke-my-coffee-machine-THAT WAS AN ORIGINAL!"

Loki couldn't say anything besides "Barton..."

"I don't care," Tony snarled, planting himself over Loki's chest. "That was my goddamn coffee machine. I _made _the little shit," Loki let out a huff as Tony sat on him, unwilling to get up.

"Well. I knew it," Bruce proclaimed as he walked into the kitchen. Seeing the billionaire planted on the chest of the dazed god, he shook his head and went to make himself a cup of tea. "I always knew it,"

"Knew what?!" Tony and Loki demanded in unison. "KNEW WHAT?!" But Bruce said nothing, only took his mug and exited the kitchen.

* * *

Loki's back was still aching as he plopped onto the couch later that day. Tony had planted himself on Loki for a total of two hours, even going so far as to refer to him as his 'human chair'.Well, there was no way Loki would've stood for that. He had automatically whacked Tony upside the head for that comment, sparking another round of fight that he was sure neither of them had recovered from.

"No, Steve, I'm telling you, you _have _to watch this movie. It's the holy grail of Scarlett Johansson movies." Steve and Natasha entered, Natasha with her back to Loki as she passionately argued with Steve.

"I just don't think it's an honest representation of her acting. And plus, a movie where the guy falls in love with his computer? The present scares me enough already. I don't want to be scared of the future!" Steve complained.

"But Steeeeevveee-" Natasha was now full-on whining. "Pleeeeease? Pepper's been talking about this movie for months!"

"So watch it with Maria?"

"You know how Hill gets with sappy movies! She won't stop complaining for days! Please, Steve?" she begged. "Tony refuses to watch it with me and Clint's gone off somewhere with Bobbi,"

"As if they actually leave his room," Steve muttered. "You'd think they'd at least _try _to act normal."

"Says the super soldier who spends his nights armed with a drawing pad," Loki snorted, smirking as the duo jumped. Well, mainly Steve. Natasha may or may not have been startled-it was too hard to tell.

"What do you want, Loki?" she snarled with a deadpan, irritated that her argument had been disrupted.

"I can't simply inquire to the habits of some old friends?" he drawled, lazily spread out on the couch.

"I wouldn't call it _friends,_" Steve began. "Tony gets very territorial about his coffee machines,"

"It was a coffee machine," Loki scoffed. "It's not like it was, say, a genuine black leather double .22 holster with intricately carved designs..." Natasha's eyes grew wide, and her fists clenched threateningly. Loki, realizing that _maybe _he'd said a bit too much, scrambled off of the couch, backing up as Natasha stalked towards him.

"You did _what _to my holsters?!" she demanded, poisonously glaring at him.

Loki put his hands up in protest. "It was an honest mistake!" he protested, as the spy began to shake in anger. "It resembles a snake-it really does!" he added hurriedly as she produced one of her many knives from her person. "Thor wouldn't stop whimpering at the sight of it, the man absolutely _insisting _that it moved when I wasn't concentrating my gaze on it-"

"I. Don't. Fucking. Care," Natasha pressed the blade to his throat. "That double holster was a present from Steve. I want it back. _Capische?" _The trickster nodded, and she released him, her disdain for him exponentially multiplying.

"You will get your beloved possession back, Romanoff," he told her as she stalked off, a confused Steve following her. "But honestly, it was pretty ugly," he muttered under his breath. Then yelled as a knife pinned his coat to the wall. "Hey!" Another knife.

"You forget that I have a boyfriend with enhanced hearing," Natasha informed him, neatly sending another knife at him, this time above his head. "LOKI'S BEING USED FOR TARGET PRACTICE, IF ANYONE'S INTERESTED," she hollered into the general vicinity. Clint was the first to respond, dropping out of the nearest vent with a quiver full of arrows.

"I heard 'Loki' and 'target practice'," he said, then glanced at the pinned god. "Aw, come on, Tash. You started without me?"

"He destroyed my holster," she answered through gritted teeth.

"You are officially an idiot," Clint said to Loki. "Tasha's holster? Really? You might as well have dyed her suit pink and replaced all of her bullets with rubber ones,"

A sheepish grin formed on Loki's face as Natasha made a mad dash for her room.

* * *

A half hour later, Bruce came into the living area to find Loki in a pink Black Widow suit, various knives and arrows surrounding the area around him. Natasha and Clint were taking turns shooting at Loki. Clint, having run out of arrows about five minutes prior, was testing his luck with Natasha's rubber bullets. Tony and Steve were raptly watching the contest, cheering whenever Loki flinched at a near miss.

"You didn't even have to walk in, Loki, and I still knew it," The scientist shook his head at the god's distress.

"Knew what?" Steve questioned as Clint ricocheted a bullet off of one of Natasha's knives already buried in the wall.

"Damn it!"

"Stick to arrows, Barton," Natasha smirked, shooting Loki in the knee. His knee jerked, tearing the coat.

"TEN POINTS!" Tony cheered, doing a drunk imitation of a touchdown dance.

"And Stark's inebriated. In case you didn't know," Steve rolled his eyes. Bruce just sighed and left, only passing Loki as he departed.

"I'm telling you, Loki. I knew it."

"WHAT IS IT THAT YOU KNOW, BANNER-OW!" Clint had just nabbed him in the stomach.

But Bruce just shook his head and walked out. Loki lunged for him, only to hear the distressing _rrriiip _of his coat as he landed face first on the ground.

Tony regarded the prone god. "Can I sit on him again?"

* * *

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Can't shoot a .22," Clint muttered to himself, letting off three more rounds at a practice dummy. "I'll show Tasha who's the better marksman."

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Still trying to salvage your pride, Barton?" Steve entered the training room.

"There's nothing to be salvaged," Clint answered tersely. "I'm just as good a shot as she is-just not with those damn rubber bullets."

"Well." Steve paused. "I just came to tell you Pepper's scheduled some sort of gala for tonight. We have to be prepped by 6:30. _Why _she didn't tell us earlier, I don't know..."

"Really?" Clint muttered as he took off his goggles. "And pray tell, we don't have to dress up, do we?" Clint hated monkey suits more than anything. They made it impossible to hide anything on the person, much less any necessary weapons.

"Tie required," Steve answered lightly before exiting. Clint let out a sigh of frustration, blindly firing at the target once again.

Surprisingly, he hit the target seven out of seven times.

"Knew it was the rubber bullets."

* * *

"Alright, where's Barton?" Tony demanded later that night, as all of the Avengers had gathered in the main lobby. He looked dashing as usual, in a crisp black suit that hid all signs of his intoxication. He pulled at his bowtie, clearly uncomfortable with the choice. "I thought I told you to tell him, Rogers."

"I did," Steve was clad in a suit similar to Tony's, only in a shade of gray that brought out his piercing blue eyes. Unlike the billionaire, however, he was wearing an actual tie-one, they were more preferable, and two, Tony had flat-out refused to wear what he called 'the masters of strangulation'.

"Second only to Natashalie, of course," he'd winked, for which she'd delivered a blistering eye roll at him. It had taken Pepper a good ten minutes to convince Tony to wear the bow tie, and a collective sigh of relief was heard when the two had finally reached a decision.

"Well, if he doesn't show up soon, he's going to have to walk there, and-" Pepper was cut off by a vent opening and Clint poking his head out. He looked absolutely disheveled, yet still devastatingly handsome in a navy suit and black tie. Indignation was etched onto his face.

"Alright, which one of you little fuckers did it?" he demanded. Despite their contrasting finery, identical looks of confusion were mirrored on each Avenger's face.

"Did what?" Bruce questioned the archer.

"This," Clint snarled harshly, dropping something from the vent. Each Avenger gathered around said object, raising their eyebrows. "This happened to _all of my arrows."_

Natasha gasped in mock indignation. "_Oh my gosh, Clint, who would do that to you?"_

"You would," he retorted.

"Think about where _I_ was all afternoon." Natasha gestured to her getup, a short, spaghetti-strapped black dress with glitzy rhinestones swirling up the sides in a wide-striped pattern, studded with the occasional large stone. Her red hair gently touched her shoulders, the occasional tendril escaping. "Do you _think _I had time to do this _and _screw with your precious arrows?"

"I'll attest to that." Pepper grumbled. "You know how hard it was to peel her off of Steve?"

"Hey!"

"It's true."

"Well? Stark?" Clint glared at him.

"What? Me?" Tony asked, feigning hurt. "Legolas, I just spent the majority of my afternoon arguing with my girlfriend-who looks absolutely gorgeous, by the way," he added, as Pepper dropped a curtsy and smirked. "-about a _tie. _Trust me, if I'd had time to screw with your arrows, I would've."

"Then who did it?!"

"Did you enjoy your broken arrows, bird boy?" Loki's voice smirked from the elevator. "I must say, breaking the one labeled 'Almost killed Tash' was a nice touch, wasn't it?" Natasha sucked in a breath. _Now _she knew why Clint was so upset.

"He still has it," she whispered to Steve, who looked utterly confused. "He'd had the arrow all ready to shoot and everything, and he just-he just didn't,"

"Thank God he didn't," Steve rumbled, pulling her against him. "I would hate to think how I would've turned out,"

"Utterly alone, I suppose," she smirked, fitting herself into his grasp. "Maybe at some point you would've asked out Hill,"

"Ew." His nose crinkled. "She's with Director Fury." She giggled at that, and his arm tightened around her. Clint, meanwhile, had been stormily glaring at the smug god.

"You'll pay for this," In a blur, Clint had dropped out from the vent and sent a flying kick at Loki, drop-kicking him to the tiled floor. Blow after blow rained down on him, and each hero had to admire the way Clint managed not to get a single blood spatter on his suit.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but _damn, _I'm good!" Bruce exclaimed. "Loki just keeps proving me right time and time again. 'Cause I just knew it."

"KNEW WHAT?!" Tony, Clint and Loki echoed. Bruce took a beat of silence for dramatic effect.

"I _knew _you were trouble when you walked in." Clint stopped beating up Loki long enough to process the reference, and when he did, he was off on a nonstop laughing streak. Even Pepper, who had managed to remain stoic throughout the entire ordeal, couldn't help letting out a snort. Tony, of course, was also on the ground, giggling to himself in circles. Only Steve and Natasha remained, a puzzled look on his face, while hers contained an arched eyebrow.

"I'm confused," he told her, and she fluidly shrugged.

"Nothing you really needed to get," she answered. "I told you about Taylor Swift. It's from her song 'I Knew You Were Trouble'. 'Bout a guy named Harry Styles that she claims knew was trouble when he walked in,"

"You compare me to an EX-BOYFRIEND?" Loki demanded, surging to his feet.

"Why, yes. Yes I did," Bruce calmly answered before turning to Pepper. "Sorry about the suit in advance." His eyes flashed green, muscles began to bulge, and soon enough, the Hulk towered over the party. Clint and Tony stopped laughing long enough to scoot into a corner, where laughter turned into wide-eyed anticipation of what the Hulk would do next.

In great imitation of what he'd done in the battle of New York, the Hulk picked up Loki by his feet and whipped him back and forth, allowing him to slam into the floor before whipping him in the other direction. "HULK SMASH GOD."

Clint and Tony looked notably impressed.

In the end, Loki was lying in a depression in the tiled floor, cracks spider-webbing around his person. "Ow," he winced. Then felt something crack. "Ow."

In a final gesture of insult, Tony sat upon him again. "Ow." Loki groaned as the breath _whooshed _out of him. The Hulk slowly shrunk to a smirking Bruce.

"And aren't you lying on the cold, hard ground," he mocked. Pepper's mouth formed a silent 'o' in shock, most likely at the fact that Bruce-_Bruce,_ of all people!-had just made a Taylor Swift reference.

"Okay, guys, chop chop, we've got to get going-" Phil Coulson strolled into the lobby, periwinkle suit slightly askew, and stopped at the scene of destruction before him. "I'll just be getting the paperwork, then," he faltered, before turning on his heel and heading out the door he'd entered in.

* * *

**Review please? They would really make my day! And week. And my life. Really. Best review gets Nat's holster! After, you know, it's been stolen and not at all in any danger of being found by Nat! If you love it, follow the story! :D**

**And a last shout out to ozhawk, who really is just AWESOME. Go read 'Through A Glass Darkly'; it's the best story EVER. We're collaborating on this awesome plot that started out as a plot bunny, and...yeah! I'm really excited about it hehehehehe...**


	7. Coulson's Captain America Trading Cards

**Another week! Just got a 39 on physics, so that's...well..expected. But that's life. But that's three weeks down...how many more do we have left?**

**Shoutouts to HerzeY, Queen Martha Pond, Death-Sama01 and souleater953 for following! I haven't seen any reviews. Please? They make feel oh so lonely. Is it because there's no rewards?**

**Well. Queen Martha Pond gets Nat's holsters, anyways. That was the only review. There was a lot of work involved for those! *shudders at the state of Nat's room* **

**Our ship: NO ONE! hehehe, everyone's single. Except Pepperony. Always Pepperony.**

* * *

19\. No one is allowed to steal Coulson's Captain America trading cards (said person will get killed)

"Those had better not be what I think those are," The seemingly innocent cards were laid out across the lab desk in all of their glory, in absolute mint condition, minus some fraying around the edges from Tony's manhandling.

"What, Coulson's security blanket?" Tony snorted, not even looking up from whatever project he'd been working on. "'Course they are, Brucie,"

Bruce picked up the revered Captain America trading cards gingerly. "You know he's going to kill you once he finds out you have them, right?"

"Please. The man needs to grow up," Tony dismissed. "Plus, he spends so much time on his little bus he hardly checks his locker."

"And you two spend so much time in here that you failed to notice the meeting started fifteen minutes ago," drawled a silky voice from the doorway. The two men turned to see Natasha and Pepper in its entrance, one casually leaning against the wall checking her manicure, the other with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed in a threatening glare.

"Natashalie," Tony acknowledged, then gulped. "Pep." In that moment, Bruce decided, it was harder to tell which one of the two women was scarier. "What's going on in his meeting again?"

"Well, Phil's back," Pepper answered, while Bruce sent a pointed look at Tony. "We're reviewing the rules of things that should and should not happen while he's gone. _Again_."

"Oh, you mean like turning my hair red and allowing Natashalie to go against Point Break in a plunger war that destroyed Grand Central?" Tony asked innocently. Natasha scowled at him.

"I won that war. I _will _use those skills on you if I have to."

"My hair was red for a week. A WEEK. Do you know how bad that was?"

"Not as bad as a pissed Fury is going to be," Natasha answered, checking her watch with a flick of her wrist. "Which you'll have to endure in five minutes should you fail to get your asses in gear,"

Bruce sighed. "Do I _have _to go? You remember what happened last time, don't you?" Tony, at the last meeting, had been so exhausted that he'd fallen asleep on Bruce, leaving the scientist to stay seated for an extra two hours following the meeting in fear of waking the sleep-deprived billionaire.

Pepper sighed. "Unfortunately, I do. Which is why-" She glared at Tony. "-Tony's had at least eight hours of sleep, _haven't you, Tony?_"

"Of-of course I have!" Tony stuttered. Bruce and Natasha rolled their eyes in unison. Hell was more likely to freeze over rather than Tony Stark get a good night's rest.

"While I'd love to stay here and psychoanalyze Tony's sleep patterns," Natasha drawled, "we have a meeting to get to. So. Stark, you can either come quietly, or you can come by force," Bruce resignedly began to trudge out the door, while Pepper looked two seconds away from getting a rope and dragging her stubborn boyfriend all the way to the meeting.

The CEO's eyes met the spy's. "Plan B?"

"Plan B." Instantly, Natasha had tackled Tony, knocking him unconscious with her Widow's Bites. Without mercy, she picked him up by one arm and began to drag him towards the doorway. "I could do this all day. JARVIS, take a couple of shots for posterity?"

"Already done, Miss Romanoff."

* * *

Tony came to about five minutes into the meeting, awakening with a "Wha...? Shaken, not stirred."

"Welcome to America, Tin Man," Clint snorted. "Nice of you to join us,"

"Anyways, as I was saying," Coulson continued as if nothing had happened. "We're still doing damage control on the plunger war. So, Agent Barton, please refrain from teaching any of the Avengers archery-"

"Phil! Good to see ya!" Tony mumbled, not quite fully awake. "Excellent trading cards you've got, by the way," Coulson froze, and Tony quickly realized his mistake. "N-n-not that I've seen them, Phil, of course I haven't seen them, so how would I even know that-? You know what, weren't you saying something about Legolas and shooting plungers?"

Coulson gave him a long look, but continued. "The Black Widow's video is still circulating from last time, so, Agent Romanoff, also refrain from anything concerning a ukelele and Karen O..."

* * *

"Why did you have to say something?" Bruce hissed at Tony later in the hallway. "He's giong to be on our tails now!"

"I wasn't fully awake," Tony grumbled. "I gotta get rid of 'em."

"Damn right you'd better."

* * *

He _really _needed to stop pulling all-nighters.

Bruce groaned as he picked his face up off of his clipboard. But really-Thor needed to stop destroying walls whenever he wanted a Pop-Tart. _Ugh, there was nothing worse than peeling papers off of your cheek._ One report, two lab reports, Barton's baseline tests, trading card...

He froze. Trading card?

Bruce looked down in horror to see Coulson's beloved trading cards taped to a clipboard. Attached to them was a Post-It note from Tony that read, 'Sorry Brucie. Had to get rid of 'em before Coulson busted my ass. -Tony' He hated to think what would happen to him should Coulson find out he had the precious trading cards. Or, more likely, who would die.

Two things needed to happen. One, Stark needed payback for this, and two, someone _else _needed to get the cards, and stat. Bruce carefully peeled the cards off of his clipboard, mind whirring. He hadn't been the ones who'd stolen them, but he'd be damned if he damaged them.

* * *

Clint awoke with a stiff neck, cramped leg, and the dry feeling of vent air washing over his slightly ajar mouth. Yup. He'd fallen asleep in the vents..._again_. It'd been like this for a few days now. Ever since Tony had decided to leave a box of spiders in Clint's suite, the archer had been spending his nights in the metal sanctuaries. He wasn't going to question why it'd been a box of black widow spiders (there'd already been several afternoons where he and Natasha had brutally proved to Tony their lack of relationship,) he wasn't going to question where said spiders had come from...

...and he certainly wasn't going to question why Coulson's Captain America trading cards were taped to the vent walls. Despite the constantly flowing air, a light sheen of sweat broke out across Clint's forehead. Every SHIELD agent knew how dedicated Coulson was to the superhero. It was the number one office discussion-barring speculationns on Maria and Fury, or the pool on when 'Black Hawk' would finally become a thing. (He and Natasha had been planning an epic strikeback which involved embarrassing footage of the biggest better. Nat had been all for killing them, but he'd refused.) Taking the cards was equal to an act of treason. With about the same consequences. They had to go. But who to blame it on...?

Steve would get forgiven. The man was freaking Captain America! Tony wouldn't have been so obvious about it, and given his slipup at the meeting, it was most likely he'd already had posession of them. Which meant that at some point, Bruce had had them as well. He really only had one choice. It wasn't a choice he had to like, but...

* * *

Still scowling to herself, Natasha stormed into her apartment, nearly destroying her lock in her three attempts to get it open. It'd been an awful day-men hitting on her in that godawful HQ meeting, having to skip lunch _because _of said meeting, accidentally walking in on Fury and Maria (that could've gone without seeing,)...

BOOM! A sudden noise emanated from her vent. Her scowl deepened. There wasn't any question to who that was.

"BARTON!" she hollered, on the verge of shooting at it. Not that it would have been the only thing she'd shot today. In response, a solitary card floated down from the vent's opening. Curiosity kicking in, Natasha stepped carefully over to the card, emerald eyes widening in shock as she processed its image.

Well, shit.

Coulson's Captain America trading cards. Clint had already fled the vents hurriedly, if the loud squeaking was anything to go by. With a sigh, Natasha bent to pick up the rest of the cards, which had fluttered to the ground. She may have been the Black Widow, but an angry Coulson was no match for anyone.

There was a knock on the door. "Agent Romanoff?"

Oh, was she _screwed. _

She quickly slid the cards in between the pages of a magazine sitting on her coffee table. "It's open!"

Phil Coulson stepped in, a furrow clear on his face. "I need to ask you a very important question,"

Natasha rearranged her features so that they resembled her Widow facade more than anything. "I should think so, otherwise you wouldn't be here, would you?" He simply quirked an eyebrow at her before pressing on.

"You haven't seen my Captain America trading cards by any chance?"

Her eyebrow was quirked at him in response. "Did you _really _think I'd steal your trading cards, Agent Coulson?"

"Yes, well..." Coulson shifted from one foot to the other, discomfort clear as he sweated in his impeccable black suit. Natasha allowed herself a small smirk of satisfaction. While she was slightly afraid of rabid-fanboy Coulson (not that she'd allow anyone to know), it was nice to know he was _constantly _scared of her. "I just thought, since you were the only one stealthy enough to get past the cameras and genius enough to break into my locker..."

_So does Tony, _she echoed in her thoughts. "I take that as a compliment, Agent Coulson." She turned away from him to her granite countertop, beginning to sort through her mail; a sign that the conversation was over. "Be rest assured, it wasn't me." _Try Stark if you really want to get somewhere._

Coulson said nothing, simply exited her apartment with the grace of a top SHIELD agent. A grace that didn't last very long, Natasha observed, for she heard Thor's panicked yelling out in the communal room. "It was not I who took your cards, Son of Coul!"

_Tony, Tony, Tony, _she thought sardonically. Slipup at the meeting? Having the ability to break into Coulson's locker and disable the cameras? All signs pointed to the egotistical billionaire. And _boy,_ was he going to pay.

* * *

"Sir, I've picked up on something you may wish to see," JARVIS alerted Tony later that day.

Tony glanced up from his latest experiment-a high tech sword made to look like Excalibur-maybe Thor could use it-and addressed the omniscient AI. "What's up, J?"

"It seems that your suits have been tampered with, sir,"

"WHAT?!" Instantly, Tony was alert and heading at full tilt to his suit storage. When he reached it, he almost fainted at the sight he saw.

Each and every one of Tony's suits had been destroyed in some way, shape or form-one riddled with bullets, shot by arrows, and at the very least, completely bedazzled. His growing horror mounted with each ruined Iron Man suit. Finally, he got to the last one, his sinking suspicion quickly realized as he saw the Captain America trading cards taped to a silly-stringed suit. Along with the scuffed cards, there a was a hastily scrawled Post-It note.

'_This is why you don't steal Coulson's trading cards', _it read. _'By the way, he's on his way down now. -Natasha'_

"Shit! Natashalie!" Tony panicked, his life flashing before his eyes. Being abandoned by his father, meeting Pepper, being rejected for the Avengers' Initiative...never mind. His life hadn't been full of great memories anyways.

"STAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRK!"

That was the last word Tony heard before everything ceased to imprint itself into his concious memory.

* * *

"He stole Coulson's trading cards?" Fury asked later that day, as a resigned Steve dragged a severely injured Tony into the medical bay.

Steve could only nod.

* * *

**Reviews pretty please? Best one gets said trading cards and the chance to bash Tony's suits!**

**Props to ozhawk for the Excalibur thing-go check out 'Through A Glass Darkly' to get it.**

**Oh, and I found this adorable Chibi plot of CATWS. :D Check it out if you have time. It's the background to my phone screen and I get the feels every time I see the 'This my hubband' part xD**

** photos/104048375131879653290/albums/6061245712874649601/6061245712903134418**


	8. Clint and Family Guy

**This has been the WORST week. EVER. But at the very least, I got around to watching Agents of SHIELD. Pretty good record for this week. I had to go to a football game that our team _lost_ (but then again nothing else is new) and it was freezing, and I was tired, and my friends and I were slowly losing our mentalities...**

**Shoutout to Music1nTim3, Chardineno, Pikapegasus (who I absolutely LOVE by the way :D), RynNightShade, Hela Lokisdottir, and Jessica - of Loki's Army for following! (Wow. That may or may not be a record.) **

**Best review ties in for eternal stars 5 (who suggested I have all of the Avengers camp out in the wild, I might do that soon hehehehe :D), Anon (you really should get an account! I'd love to write that chapter with you! But I'm also taking your prompt :D), I Am Iron Man (I'll take prompts! Make an account and PM me! I'll try to bring in Bucky, too...if it brings you back haha) and Pikapegasus (STOP DYING WE NEED TO WRITE HAHA)! All of you can go bash Tony's suits, I'm sure Pepper will let you in xD**

**EVERYONE'S SINGLE HERE MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHA...**

* * *

83\. Clint Is Not to Sing _Bird Is the Word_

"Someone. Quick. Hide the _Family Guy_ DVDs!" Tony came skidding into the Avengers common room.

"Why should we do that?" Natasha, perched precariously on the couch, raised an eyebrow at him.

"What is this guy of a family?" Thor inquired. "Friend Barton has tried to educate me before on this, I feel..."

"It's not so much a _what, _it's more of a _who_," Natasha answered, turning back to Tony. "Tell me again why I should listen to what you're asking me to do, Stark?"

"Because do you remember the LAST time Clint watched _Family Guy_?"

Natasha paled to the color of a ghost. Clint had actually watched the show multiple times during their tenure at the tower. All with different members of the team to varying degrees of disaster. As the latest victim, she'd almost shot Clint when he started imitating Stewie. Not that it hadn't been entertaining the first couple of times, but after hearing "Why, I say!" for the hundredth time, Natasha had been ready to throw him off of Avengers Tower. Through a window.

Thor hadn't been any less hapless. Being who he was, he'd asked Clint the meaning of every joke until, the archer complaining he couldn't watch his show in peace, the god was thrown out of the viewing room. Thor had been despondent for weeks, convinced he'd done something wrong, until it'd taken a few subtle threats from Natasha and a very concerned Steve to make Clint apologize to him. With Pop-Tarts.

Tony, on the other hand, had cracked so many jokes it had taken Bruce and Thor to convince Clint not to kill him. It'd been a very eventful afternoon involving tranquilizer darts, strapping Clint down, and Tony dancing around the Tower, taunting the archer all while cracking jokes at the same time. Fury had since then forbidden Tony and Clint from watching any sort of TV together, whether it be _Family Guy _or _Teletubbies._

"You know, Stark, the strapdown incident was your fault,"

"I don't remember anything, Natashalie," Tony innocently answered. "I just remember getting drunk that day and waking up with the _worst _hangover." She rolled her eyes. Of _course _Stark would use alcohol to feign his excuse. Not that any of them believed him for a second.

"Guys, why is Clint begging me to watch a show called Family Guy with Bruce making the cutthroat sign?" Steve meandered into the room. "And why is Tony so pale? What happened to him?"

"So will you, Cap? Will ya? Will ya? Will ya?" Clint bounced into the room. "Pleeeeeeaaaase? No one else will watch it with me." His normally stern eyes were alight with excitement, prompting Steve to give in, despite the graphic warnings from the other team members.

"I don't see why not," he mused. "Where are the DVDs?"

"WOOOOOO!" Clint cheered, while Tony groaned aloud and Natasha's head hit the table.

It was going to be a very long afternoon.

* * *

"So tell me what happened to this guy again-Peter, right?"

"Well," Clint began, popping another handful of popcorn, "he got into this fight with this giant mascot chicken and now he has awful amnesia from being hit in the head."

"Like Natasha's mental recalibration when you were controlled by Loki?" Steve asked.

"I prefer not to refer to it in that way,"

* * *

"That actually wasn't so bad," Steve remarked to the rest of the team as he and Clint emerged from the viewing room. "Some innuendos I could've done without, but otherwise pretty tasteful,"

"Oh my God," Tony muttered. "He actually made it through a whole viewing without getting thrown out."

"Or having Clint lose his shit on him," Bruce jibed. "Unlike a certain _someone _we could mention..."

"You know, Cap was actually respectful throughout the entire viewing, " Clint argued. "Didn't say a thing,"

"Only because he was probably scarred from Quagmire," Natasha deadpanned. "Constantly shouting 'Giggity Giggity!' and making sexual references."

"You're not far off," Steve muttered, blushing.

"Hey Cap," Clint called, rummaging through the kitchen cabinet for a bag of chips. "Did you know the show gave me my own song?"

The realization dawned on Tony's face first, and he shouted in horror, "DON'T ASK! NOT AFTER LAST TIME! PLEASE, NOT AFTER LAST TIME!"

Bruce had mentally arrived to Tony's conclusion. "Noooooooooooo!"

But Steve, totally oblivious to Tony's attempt at a public service (or at least an act of goodwill), simply barreled ahead. "What is it?"

_"A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word. Bird bird bird, ba ba ba bird..." _ Instantly, Clint was off and singing, the song accompanied by the archer moving his arms up and down while shaking his rear end. If Steve thought he hadn't been scarred before, Clint dancing had just put the finishing touches on the wound.

"Well, now he's fucked," Natasha detachedly stated. She sighed and slipped from her stool. "I'll be in my room, sharpening my knives just in case,"

_"Hey Cap have you heard? THE BIRD IS THE WORD. A wada bird bird bird, the bird is the word..." _ Still singing at the top of his lungs, Clint danced off, presumably to go annoy Pepper or some Stark Industries member.

_"A wa wa ooh ma ma mow, ooh ma ma mow wada ooh ma ma mow..." _Thor began to bob his head along with the song in some unknown language. Moljnir suddenly flew to his hand, smashing through several walls, to Tony's chagrin.

* * *

_"A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the-GACK!"_

Part of him reasoned it was payback for Tony singing musicals into the PA system ten days ago **(see Tony and Musicals), **but another part just wanted to see who'd get pissed first and attempt to kill him. For that, Clint had been singing without abandon into Tony's PA system for the last ten minutes. In a stupid (or gutsy) move, he'd had his back to the door, therefore not noticing when Natasha had silently stormed into the PA room and had unceremoniously seized by the scruff of his neck and slammed him against a wall. Apparently, it'd taken all of ten minutes for said pissiness to set in.

"Barton." a sleep-deprived voice grumbled into his ear. "It is FIVE. IN. THE FUCKING. MORNING."

He gulped. _Now _he remembered why no one made loud noises before coffee had been distributed. _Especially _if Natasha was in the building. There really was no room for error, even more so when she hadn't had coffee.

"Can I shoot him _now_, Natashalie?"

* * *

AC/DC blaring, Tony was completely immersed in a project he was working on. Currently, it was expandable shoes for the Hulk-Bruce kept rendering his designer ones to shreds, and there were only so many pairs in the world. If only he could figure out how to mutilate the molecular structure of the leather, then he'd finally get somewhere...

Tony's track stopped, and he frowned indifferently. He'd set all of his tracks to bleed into one another. "JARVIS, what's going-"

"_A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word!" _The irritatingly familiar tune began to blare.

"JARVIS, shut it off!" Tony demanded, but the song kept playing.

"I'm sorry, sir, but my circuits have been overridden," JARVIS answered resignedly. Just then, Clint's dirty blond hair poked through a lab vent.

"Hey Tony, have you heard? _The bird is the word! A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word-_"

Tony couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing the plunger shooter he'd designed a few days ago, he began to shoot at the vent Clint's head was protruding from. Luckily, Tony was a horrible shot (one wondered how he fired shots off his Iron Man suits half the time, or maybe it was just because Tony was _slightly _tipsy at the time), and the archer managed to get away, his theme song still playing.

"HAWKEYE FOR THE WIN!"

With a last grunt of disgust, Tony aimed a plunger at his speaker, brightening a bit when it silenced the song. Sparks flew from the contraption, causing some of the lab lights to flicker. There was a dead silence, a silence Tony hadn't heard in a long while. Not since-well, forever.

"Sir, the chances of you hitting that with all of those misses at Agent Barton was-" If JARVIS could have smirked, he would have.

"At least Birdbrain shut up." Wait. But that meant Tony couldn't play AC/DC at top blast in the lab, either...No. Not more of Bruce's _classical _music...

* * *

"It could be worse," Bruce said to Steve, who was now rummaging in the kitchen cabinets for some aspirin. Clint had been blaring the song all morning, and the super solider was now left with a headache the size of the Hulk. "He could be singing it in person,"

"Don't you dare take all of that aspirin," Natasha threatened, walking into the kitchen, a hand on her temples. "I swear to God, I will make you die in the most _painful _way should you take the last aspirin."

"You too?" Steve groaned.

"Worse. Idiot hacked my phone while I was training and it started blaring in my headphones."

"Why didn't you just take them off?" Bruce queried.

"Distraction is distraction, and I take what I can get." Natasha winced again as Steve knocked over a mug stacked on the cabinet's lower shelf. "Ugh, this is worse than Budapest,"

"What _wasn't _worse than Budapest?" Steve muttered under his breath, finally unearthing the bottle of aspirin. "You'd think that, this being Stark Tower, there'd be more aspirin, but _nooooo_..." He opened the bottle, frowning at its contents. "There's only one left." He looked at Natasha, who was glaring at him with the face she usually reserved for torturing information out of people. He sighed and handed over the tiny white bottle, and she chased the pill right out of the container, not even bothering to find some water.

"Next time I see his ugly mug, I'm turning his ass soprano," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "It's bad enough he's already throwing the word 'bird' everywhere-"

"DID SOMEONE SAY 'BIRD'?!"

Clint's head popped out in between the three of them. "I do believe someone said 'bird'!" His self-christened theme song began to blare again, aggravating both Steve and Natasha. One whose medicine hadn't kicked in, and one who hadn't had any medicine at all. _"__A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word-_Hey Tasha, have you heard?-_THE BIRD IS THE WORD-"_

One-handedly, Natasha had a gun out and was shooting at the bent, wrecking havoc with the metal's structure, all the while still nursing her headache. Clint scampered through the vent, still singing, the various bullet holes following his path.

"_-bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the-AGH!" _There was a noise resembling a choking sound, and Clint fell to the ground, his face contorted in horror. Steve and Bruce quickly hurried over to him, Natasha simply smirking at a walk.

"Natasha, what did you do to him?" Steve shouted over the blaring of the song. In answer, Natasha fired a last bullet at the room's speakers, and there was blissful quiet. He turned to Bruce, his headache deciding to fire on all cylinders. "Do we have any more aspirin...?"

"I'm going to buy some," the scientist promised, and hurried out of the room. Clint appeared to be crying now, silently sobbing as Natasha struggled not to laugh at his expression.

"Natasha...I'm not going to ask you again. What did you do?"

"She turned-" Clint began to answer for her, but the problem seemingly resolved itself when, instead of its usual deep timbre, came out as a warbling falsetto.

"You've _literally _'turned his ass soprano'." Steve echoed in shock. Stunned for a moment, he finally choked out, "Do I want to know where you learned that?" He turned to Clint. "Well, at least you can sing opera now..."

"Some comfort!" Clint snarled girlishly. "At this rate, I could be Ariana Grande!"

"Did I hear that a certain Birdbrain's turned soprano?" Tony came bounding into the kitchen, a large grin on his face. Clint's face reddened, and he didn't even try to dignify that with a response, knowing Tony would only find more hilarity in it.

* * *

"Psst! Phil!"

It was a week after Clint's soprano incident, and the archer was once again in the vents, ready to strike at his next victim. This time, though, he was aiming for the employees at the Triskelion, having skipped a debriefing to exact his revenge. Bruce (bless his heart), had managed to get Clint's voice back to its usual baritone, but not after squeezing a few laughs from the situation, including filming a Mariah Carey cover and an opera attempt. Said videos were currently circulating on YouTube, causing the need for _another _meeting.

Phil Coulson sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get any work done with the pesky archer hanging around, closed his file and glanced up at the vent that held the infamous Hawkeye. "What, Agent Barton?"

"Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?" Coulson felt a small stab of embarrassment. From anyone looking outside his office, it would look like he was talking to the ceiling.

"I can't believe you haven't heard! It's everywhere!"

"Should I be concerned about this?" Oh, please, not another shenanigan. He'd already had to be present for the 'digging the bullet out of the ass' operation, not to mention having to deal with a small aspirin shortage that had nearly brought out the Hulk. All within the last ten days. Coulson needed a break.

"You _seriously_ haven't heard, Phil?"

"No. Can't say that I have." The answer was short, clipped, and hopefully enough to deter Clint from any further conversation. The file was reopened, and its contents beginning to be carefully scrutinized.

"Dude. It's absolutely crazy! You're _sure _you haven't heard?"

Coulson slammed the file shut. "WHAT HAVEN'T I HEARD, BARTON?!"

"Don't do it, Coulson, he's going to-" Tony burst into the room, the warning dying on his lips as 'Bird Is the Word' began to blare throughout Coulson's office, along with Clint's off-key singing.

"_A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird..." _Clint dropped to the floor, beginning his trademark dance, complete with the shaking rear end. Which, Tony noted, was still bandaged from Natasha's hit. "Hey Phil have you heard? THE BIRD IS THE WORD _a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word..." _He danced out of the office, the ditty still blaring.

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE NOISE COMING FROM?!" Coulson demanded. In response, Tony drew his plunger shooter and began shooting at every visible speaker in the room. Eventually, the noise died down, leaving Coulson and Tony with a very awkward silence.

"...just bill it to Stark Industries, Coulson." Tony sighed. "You'll probably want to start filling the paperwork for this one, too."

* * *

"Hey Hill! Hey! Hill!"

Warily, Maria Hill glanced up at the ceiling, where Barton was nonchalantly hanging from a rafter. Hadn't they 'Hawkeye-proofed' those things just last week? She internally sighed. Looks like they'd have to do it again. "What do you want, Barton?"

"Haven't you heard?"

"Of you terrorizing Coulson? Yes, I've already heard all about it, thank you very much." Who _hadn't_ heard about it? Coulson sounding absolutely deranged, shouting at his ceiling, Tony Stark barging in like the cavalry with a plunger shooter? She was more surprised he hadn't gone in with a trumpet and a stuffy accent.

"No, not that, Hill. I can't believe you haven't heard!"

"You finally got with Romanoff? About time." Seriously. It really had been. Another week and Maria would have shoved them together herself. She was sure Coulson (and Fury) would approve. Eventually.

"Ew. No. I'm not with Nat and I never will be." Clint mentally reminded himself to talk to Natasha about some possible revenge on the SHIELD'S second-in-command. That is, when he could get near her without being threatened by a sidearm. "But haven't you heard?"

"What haven't I heard, Barton? And make it quick." She raised an eyebrow at him as a grin came over Clint's face.

"Well..." The refrain blasted again, causing Hill to drop the files in her hands. _"A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird-"_

"WHO IS THE MOTHERFUCKING MOTHERFUCKER THAT KEEPS PLAYING MOTHERFUCKING _FAMILY GUY_?!" Nick Fury roared as he stormed down the hallway, several agents scattering out of his path.

"Director Fury!" Clint announced joyfully. "Haven't you heard that the bird is the word?" And just like that, he was off again. _"A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird..." _He began to dance once again down the hallway, not noticing when Natasha swung out from a vent, aimed her gun, and once again, shot Clint in the behind before swinging back up, her red hair nothing but a flash to the stunned agents lining the hallway. Clint went down once again, his voice resembling that of a boy in puberty. "DAMMIT, NOT AGAIN!" This proclamation was so pitchy Hill half-expected Clint to throw a fit along with the injury.

"Director, I do believe this could be put to good use..." Natasha was standing over Clint's figure on the floor, tucking her weapon back into her holster. Fury stalked over to her, an interested look on his face, while Hill strode purposely behind him.

"Do elaborate, Agent Romanoff," Fury raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, there _is _that mission you're planning on sending me on next week," Natasha drawled. "That one with the arms dealer, at the convention? His...range would certainly help him fit in better than I could," Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, not unlike that which had been seen in Loki's eyes during the Battle of New York. "He'd be a lot more convincing than I would,"

"Trashed my office, too," Coulson groaned as he joined the party. He turned to Natasha. "You really need to teach me that 'turning your ass soprano' thing."

"I call dibs on that lesson," Hill added. "All in favor of giving Agent Barton Agent Romanoff's assignment?"

Three 'aye's' chorused in unison. A vehement one especially from Coulson.

"Wait!" Clint's breathy voice echoed from the floor. He was still clutching his ass. "What's the assignment?"

"You'll find out, Agent Barton." Was it just Hill's imagination, or was Fury actually smirking?

* * *

"Go ahead, guys, give it up," Clint emerged from his room another week later, limping from being shot in the ass twice. Unfortunately, he was still a soprano, Fury having refused to change his voice until the mission had been completed.

Tony's eyes went wide.

Bruce spit out his coffee.

Steve buried his head in his hands. "This is another thing about the present I don't understand."

Natasha, however, looked just about to fall off her chair with struggling to hold in her laughter. "Remind me who you're supposed to be again, Barton?"

"You mean who _you _were supposed to be?" Clint scowled at her and she smiled innocently, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Who, little old _me_?"

"Just get a room, you two!" Tony called, and they paused, shooting him identical murderous glares. "Although I wouldn't suggest the costume, Barton." Bruce threw a waffle at him.

"Natasha's got a point." He squinted at Clint's getup. "Who _are _you supposed to be?"

Clint sighed. "I am, for this mission and _this mission only,_ the one and only Rarity from Hasbro's _My Little Pony_," he groaned petulantly like a kindergartner. "Happy now?"

"No!" Tony began laughing hysterically. "You're a PONY!"

"You're white with purple hair and you've got blue diamonds on your ass and...oh, dear, God, you've got a UNICORN HORN!" Natasha began giggling girlishly.

"Ugh!" Clint stomped his foot and crossed his arms. "SO not fair!"

"Why, Rarity! You have returned! I thought we had lost you and your equestrian friends to the Bifrost!"

The whole team turned to see Thor with excitement on his face, bounding towards Clint.

"Uh, no, I'm not-" Clint tried to protest, but it seemed there was no deterring Thor. So he chose the only other option: running for his life.

"Did Fury tell you guys the best part?" Natasha chortled as Clint streaked past in a blur of white. The team wasn't sure what had been more shocking: Thor believing Clint had been a real pony, or actually _chasing _Clint on the belief he was a real pony.

"Do tell," Tony snickered. "Not like Barton's reputation could get any worse,"

* * *

The last of Fury's instructions echoed in Clint's ear as he made his way into the crowded convention center, automatically scanning the area for quick and possible exits. Tugging at a purple strand hanging from his head, he mentally groaned at all of the little girls and teenaged boys. Finding his target was going to be tough. Suddenly, he spotted her at a stand full of _My Little Pony _figurines. With a shudder, he recalled the director's last words:

"_Don't forget to get souvenirs."_

* * *

**Hi! I'm back! Read and review, please? Best review gets Clint's costume and/or lessons from Nat on 'how to turn an ass soprano'! Take your pick. I know not everyone would want the costume, haha. Reviews make my day. No, really :)**

**I FOUND THE IMAGE. (For those of you who asked. :D) **

**www . pintrest pin/468655904946433966/ **

**Take out the spaces between the dots.**

**See you guys next Friday!**


	9. BONUS: Lost In the Middle of Nowhere

**Umm..so it's early on a Saturday morning and I'm typing this on my phone...I'm really sorry for **_**not **_**updating yesterday (for anyone who checked, haha xD), I watched **_**We Bought a Zoo **_**(yes I am seriously behind the times haha) and then I had to go out for dinner. I was up until eleven yesterday writing it (uncommonly late for me) and just passed out after that. But it's here anyways.**

**Anyways, shoutout to Shinigamidemidragonslayer99, Minionloverforever, and aliceindeepdarkwonderland for following! Didn't get a lot of reviews, though. Not that I'm complaining or anything, followers are just as amazing :)**

**And to Queen Martha Pond: Nat will tell you how to turn someone's ass soprano. And she'll have you test it out on Clint **_**just **_**as soon as he gets back from the My Little Pony convention.**

**This one isn't on the list, by the way. eternal stars 5 gave me this prompt and I sort of just rolled with it. Which means I guess I'm open to prompts. **

**No ships here. We'll be dropping back in with the lovely Romanogers after this, though, so be prepared, Clintasha shippers :D**

* * *

It was the fourth time they'd seen that tree this evening. Bruce was sure of it. Plus, Tony had spit his gum out just _there _an hour ago, leaving Steve to give him a blistering, old-fashioned lecture on protecting the environment.

Yup. They were definitely lost.

"Guys." he called. "I think we're going in circles."

"No shit, Sherlock," Tony grumbled, pushing aside a tree branch. "I told Legolas an hour ago that we were walking in circles!"

"For the thirtieth time, Tony," Clint muttered, checking the map and compass, "we're _not _lost. Just...temporarily displaced." There was a sharp snap as Tony's previous tree branch came back to hit him in the face. "And OW, that hurt."

"The last time I checked, those meant the same things." Tony, having emerged into a clearing, set down the team's bags with a loud huff, the bags puffing up little clouds of dust as they hit the hard, packed ground. "Remind me why I wasn't allowed to bring the GPS again?"

"Because this was supposed to be a _team exercise,_ Tony." Steve answered resignedly, setting down his own bags. "You weren't supposed to bring technology. None of us were. What if we were stuck in the middle of nowhere, and you couldn't call a suit?"

"This isn't the middle of nowhere?"

Incoherent words sputtered out of Steve's mouth as he tried to formulate an appropriate response. "Well...um..."

"Oh, you men are _hopeless_." Natasha snatched the map from Clint, much to his dismay. She regarded it with a criticizing eye, finally realizing what had happened and shifted the map accordingly. "You're holding the damn thing upside down, Barton."

"AND NO ONE TOLD HIM THIS AN HOUR AGO?!" Tony yelled. His normally gelled hair was rumpled, and he was caked in dirt, having fallen down several slopes during the course of their hike. "I need a shower! I need sleep! I need JARVIS..." he began to whimper, shaking like a leaf.

Bruce regarded him. "Wow. He _really _doesn't do well without technology." He looked at the other five Avengers, all regarding Tony with equal looks of disappointment. "Anyone bring his security blanket?"

Clint began to frantically pat himself down, checking his various pockets in horror. "Oh no. I must've dropped it somewhere along the trail!" Natasha closed her eyes in frustration. Leave it to Clint to lose something just when they needed it most.

"Technology?" Tony sat up immediately, desperation in his tone. "Where? Who has it? Is it metal? Does it interact?" When no one answered, Tony assumed the fetal position, thumb sucking and all.

"Great." Natasha rolled her eyes. "One man-baby down."

The small clearing was surrounded by some trees, with ample view of the sky and room for a central campfire. Some logs were placed to and fro, good for perching on when needed. And, conveniently enough, there was a small patch of shrub a small ways down yonder-perfect for private business.

"I think this should be a good place to set camp," Steve suggested. The other four Avengers, especially Tony, agreed loudly. They began to unpack their provisions, Clint disappearing to gather firewood.

"What's he going into the woods for?" Tony called from further back on the trail. "You know we brought a generator!"

"Uh, no we didn't, Tony." Bruce answered. "It, uh, met an...unfortunate accident on the way here." He and Steve shared a look: Natasha _may _or may not have shot several bullets through it before they'd left. _Maybe. _

"We have to cook our food manually?" Tony squeaked. "Like, with sticks and everything? Do we have to skin the meat? Does anyone have a knife big enough to do that?"

"This isn't the caveman ages, Stark," Clint muttered, dropping a heap of wood onto the ground. "We brought decent food. And skewers."

"I fully intend to learn what exactly is this 's'more' you Midgardians speak of," Thor proclaimed as Clint struck a match against the wood. "The ritual seems quite intriguing."

At this, Tony sat up, excited, having seemingly gotten over his withdrawal. "S'mores aren't the only thing you'll be excited to learn about, Point Break." His brown eyes twinkled with mischief. "I tell the _greatest _ghost stories!"

* * *

"Pass the ketchup," Clint said lazily, chicken stuck over his fork. Steve handed over a packet, munching on his own piece of pork. The team was gathered around the fire, having broken out several containers of prepared meat to roast for their meal. Steve had graciously done the prep work two days ago, shutting himself in the kitchen and forbidding anyone from entering.

Nothing was said as each Avenger ravenously downed various meats, too hungry for light seemed to have recovered a bit, and was now huddled with Bruce, trying to determine the best angle in which to get a solid cook on the meat. Their whispers could be heard over the crackling of the campfire. "No, it's obviously held this way-" "You're just going to burn yourself if you-"

"Ladies, quit squabbling." Natasha drawled loudly to them. In one fluid move, she stuck her food into the fire, allowing it to combust, then withdrew it, blowing out any remaining flames. Tony examined the food in astonishment. A perfect char. "_That's_ how you cook meat. Plain and simple."

"Didn't have you pegged as the cooking type, Romanoff." Clint smirked.

"It's how I disposed of the bodies," she intoned listlessly back, and Clint went silent, trying to figure out if she was indeed serious. "Pass some pepper, will you?"

"This skewer of meat is quite delicious!" Thor exclaimed, polishing off his fifth piece of chicken. "Another!"

"...And that's why we brought another container...right?" Bruce sighed and cracked open another container; Steve's cooking was good, even in the wild.

"And that's why we brought _three._" Clint rolled his eyes. "Despite the fact that we could all get food in the wild, _nooooo, _we had to bring all of this food!"

"Please, Barton," Tony snickered. "You wouldn't last this trip going native even if you tried."

"That'd better not be a bet," Steve groaned quietly. "_Please _don't let this be a bet."

"It's a bet, Stark." Clint proclaimed. "First of us to crack first has to buy groceries for the next month."

"Who said I was going native, Barton?" Tony demanded.

"You chickening out?" Clint mocked. He began to make chicken noises, irritating Tony to no end. "_Bawwwwwk, bawk bawk bawk bawk baaaaaaaaawwwk!_"

"Fine! I'll do it!" Tony exclaimed after a few torturous minutes. "You're on!"

"...and it's a bet," Bruce groaned.

* * *

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Thor's timbred screams filled the Avengers' camp, jolting each one out of their slumber. Tony was disoriented, blearily gazing around the unfamiliar territory.

"What the fu-"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE BIFROST IS THIS?!"

"Barton?! What the hell? My eyes!"

Clint was squatting at the campfire, eating some freshly picked raspberries. The sight in itself didn't warrant the obscenities, per se. It was the fact that he was stark naked.

Completely and utterly naked. It was Thor who had woken up to the unpleasant sight, and was trying to dispel the scarring image now seared into his brain.

"Okay, never in my life did I expect to wake up to _this,_" Steve grumbled, covering his eyes. "And I was supposed to be dead seventy years ago."

"I'm going native!" Clint exclaimed to the general horror of the team. Tony's jaw dropped in horror. "Completely and utterly native."

"That's just not fair," Tony complained. "Seriously not fair, Barton!"

"Just being one with nature, Stark," Clint answered, stretching. Several joints popped in the process, and he released a sigh of relief. "Just being one with nature."

"I know what your endgame is here, Barton," Tony muttered, climbing out of his sleeping bag and heading towards the woods. "And I intend to meet it!"

"I'm not even going to _think _about what that means," Steve muttered to himself. "I'm just going to find some food, eat breakfast, and-"

"TA-DA!" Tony emerged from the nearby cluster of bushes, true to his name. "I'm stark naked! Get it? _Stark _naked? Eh? Eh?"

Natasha facepalmed. "At the very least, could the both of you go find some leaves to cover up with or something?"

"Why?" Clint taunted. "Can't handle the pure masculinity, Romanoff?" She rose fluidly from her sleeping bag, the inside of her coat revealing a very shiny, sharp knife. He went pale and bolted into the woods. Satisfied that she'd made her point clear, Natasha smirked and began rummaging through the provisions bag for breakfast.

"Alright, lazybums," she announced. "Provided one of us can actually read the map, we should get going after breakfast."

"The river awaits!" Thor exclaimed.

"_After _breakfast, Thor."

* * *

"I'm starving," Tony whined grinding to a halt a half-hour later. "Can we stop to eat?"

"Sure," Clint replied nonchalantly. He shifted, adjusting his leaf covering. Steve had forbidden them from going commando in the most literal sense, leaving Bruce to devise some sort of cover for the wilderness fanatics. "You want to hunt it, or should I?"

"Guys. We're in a freaking _forest_," Steve rolled his eyes. "Best you can get is a squirrel out here."

"Sure, Mr. Boy Scout," Clint said cheerfully. "Squirrels for lunch it is!" He disappeared, leaving Tony in his own nakedness, save for his own covering.

"I don't know about you guys," Bruce began slowly, "but I think I'd like to eat my food cooked. Preferably food that was packed before we'd left the tower." He glanced towards the team. "Anyone else sharing my sentiments?"

"Same." Natasha fished out a loaf of bread, some ham, cheese and mustard. "How many slices you want?"

"Two. And hold the mustard."

* * *

"It's been a couple of hours," Steve said worriedly as the group trooped through the undergrowth, occasionally tripping over the casual tree root. "Shouldn't we be looking for him?"

"Nah. He's _Clint_," Natasha answered dismissively, nimbly evading another protruding tree branch, leaving Tony to take its brunt with an _oof_. "I'm sure we'll find him sooner or later,"

"What is this strange plant?" Thor wondered aloud, stopping to pick at a bush. "Its design is different from that of the trees we passed an hour ago!"

"That's a raspberry bush, Thor," Bruce answered on a sigh, having already identified several species of trees for him during the majority of their hike. "You saw a blackberry bush an hour ago."

"Does it self-replicate?" Tony asked, examining it closely. "Have any sort of camouflage tendencies?"

"Still can't believe we lost the security blanket," Steve shook his head. "Next thing we know, he's going to start seeing the mosquitos as robots."

"THOR, DON'T EAT THE-"

But Natasha's shout had come too late. Thor had already popped a certain three-pointed leaf into his mouth and was happily chewing away.

"-poison ivy..."

"Well, we're done for," Steve plopped down on a nearby rock. "Might as well call it in now. There's no telling how Thor's going to react to this,"

"I feel quite fine, Captain Rogers," Thor informed him. "This thing you call 'poison ivy' has had no effect on me whatsoever,"

"You say that now," Bruce muttered darkly. "Just wait until you're itching on the inside."

"Does anyone have any spray?" Tony asked. "These robots are killing me." He slapped at a couple of mosquitoes trying to prick at his arm. "I mean, I know people want my blood and all, but this is going a little too far even for my eclectic tastes."

Steve just sighed.

* * *

"That was a good chicken wing." Natasha leaned back against the log, stuffed and satisfied. "You have to teach me that, Rogers." The light from the flames danced across her face, giving her green eyes a natural sparkle. "S'not like you can keep the recipe all to yourself, y'know."

"Not on your life, Romanoff," Steve chuckled, spearing another piece of meat into the fire. "A man never reveals his cooking secrets." He added another piece of wood to the fire, watching as it leaped up towards the starry sky. "_Especially _not to assassins who would probably utilize the recipe to make disposing of bodies easier." She smirked and shoved him.

"If I could cook, I'd take my recipes to the grave, " Bruce joked, already rifling through his bag for s'mores ingredients. "I'm not Gordon Ramsay by any means, but I can make a mean s'more." He handed out the marshmallows and graham crackers, Steve's face lighting up as he saw his beloved dark chocolate bar. "Alright, Thor, you ready?"

"'Tis not the greatest time, Friend Banner," Thor groaned from the sleeping area. Steve had decided that the six of them (whenever Clint got back) would sleep under the stars, another team bonding exercise that strangely everyone had agreed to. "My stomach is experiencing strange discomforts."

"Hopefully it isn't something you ate," Steve said, a frown on his face. "I mean, you _did _eat all of those nuts and berries on the trail..." _And the poison ivy, _he mused, but then dismissed the thought. Even with the god's system differing from that of a human's, he wouldn't get sick from poison ivy...right? "Just hang in there until we get to the river tomorrow. Pepper will pick us up and we can find out what's going on." Thor nodded weakly, bent over from his abdominal pain.

"Ah, s'mores." Natasha grinned as she spearheaded a marshmallow onto a stick. "Best part of these was always setting the marshmallow on fire," She withdrew a flaming marshmallow from the campfire, gently extinguishing the flame before hurriedly smashing it between a square of chocolate and two graham crackers.

"What is with you and arson?" Bruce wondered, withdrawing his own slightly charred one. "First the meat, now the marshmallow." He popped the gooey treat into his mouth without bothering to pair it with chocolate or graham crackers. Natasha shrugged lightly and set ablaze another poor mass of sugar. "I'm going to worry about letting you near any fire-starting materials in the Tower from now on,"

"I wouldn't let her near anything," Tony proclaimed through a mouthful of marshmallow. "Have you seen how many times we've almost been killed?"

"You want to actually die?" Natasha's words were still threatening even with a chocolate mustache spread across her upper lip, creating the impression of a French redhead. Tony raised an eyebrow at the gooey treat smeared across her face.

"Well then, I wouldn't live to tell the world's best ghost story then, would I?"

"If you can scare me, Stark, I'll let you borrow my guns for a day," She raised an eyebrow right back at him, the makings of a bet in play.

"Fine." Tony answered defiantly. "We'll have to dim the fire first." He carefully removed a few logs from the campfire, the other three Avengers huddling in closer to catch its remaining warmth. Steve looked on the precipice of scared and bored, Bruce looked interested, while Natasha had already begun examining her nails.

"A long, long time ago, there lived in these very woods a tribe called the Keenahoks," he began, his voice dropping an octave. "They were a peace-loving people, who worked with the land rather than against it, taking only what they needed."

Natasha yawned exaggeratedly. "I'm about to pass out here, Stark."

"Shut up, Natashalie, I'm getting to the good part." Tony scowled at the redhead, annoyed that his epic story had been interrupted.

"One day, one of the children suddenly collapsed in the middle of the meal. There was nothing that could have been done; the child died on the spot." Bruce shuddered at the thought at such an innocent life being wasted. "Legend had it'd been the chief's child, the target of a plot to displace its father.

"Everyone went mad trying to find the killer, pointing fingers at each other, accusing family members, loved ones, anyone they could get their hands on. It turned violent, with backstabbing and revenge killings everywhere." Steve shook his head sadly at the thought of such betrayal among families. Who would do that?

"More children began to collapse," Tony continued as the fire began to die. "And more family members pointed fingers and fought wars. It was a vicious cycle. Eventually someone got it into their head that maybe the chief had been behind all of the collapsing. An angry mob was planned.

"They came on a night just like this."

A slight breeze rifled Natasha's hair, and she shivered, wrapping her coat around herself for warmth.

"The chief had known of the mob, and had escaped prior to the attack. When he returned, however, all he found were dead carcasses, dripping enough blood to fill an entire lake," Tony's voice had dropped to a whisper. "Word has it he went crazy at the sight of all that blood. He ran into the woods, never to be seen again. Legend has it that he patrols the woods at night, howling. He's looking for any surviving members of the tribe, just watching, waiting..."

The fire went out.

"I'm going to turn in now," Bruce's voice had a nervous tinge to it.

"Sissy," Tony muttered. "That was one of my milder ones, too."

"Wasn't scared." Natasha told him. "See you in the morning, Stark." She headed over to the sleeping bags, where a Thor was snoring loudly.

"'Night, Tony," Steve seemed mildly apprehensive, checking over his shoulder every few seconds for signs of trouble. Tony snickered. He'd gotten under the super soldier's skin at last.

* * *

_Hoooooooooooowwwwlllllll..._

"Steve?" a frightened Natasha whispered, abruptly waking. "Did you hear that?"

_Hooooooowwwwlllll..._

"It's probably just a wolf, Natasha," Steve reassured her, sleep already making its way back into his voice. "Go back to sleep."

_Hoowwwllllll..._

"What if it's the chief?"

At the nervous tremor in her words, Steve snapped awake. Tony's story had affected her more than she'd let on. "You're really scared, aren't you?"

By the light of the moon, Natasha's face was illuminated by an emotion rarely seen on her: fear. Her eyes were wide, the sleeping bag pulled up to her chin. "I'm scared, Steve. Definitely scared."

_Hoooowwwllllll..._

"It was just a story, Natasha," Steve mentally cursed Clint, wherever the hell the man was, for not being here to deal with the scared Russian assassin. "The chief isn't real."

"Then what's _that_?" she demanded shakily, pointing a finger at a rapidly moving figure in the forest.

_Hooowwwlllll..._

The howling was much closer to them now, Steve's rational mind beginning to cop out on him and letting his fears take over. The bushes rustled, and Natasha jumped into Steve's arms by some random trick of gravity. Fear radiated off the both of them in waves.

"How is Bruce sleeping through this?" Steve wondered idly. Natasha shot him a look.

"You're wondering this NOW?" The footsteps grew closer. "Right when we're about to die? Oh, why didn't Coulson let us bring any weapons?"

"You're the Black Widow!" Steve whispered disbelievingly. "You mean to tell me you don't have a SINGLE weapon on you?"

"You're Captain America." She retorted, beginning to shake as the footsteps approached once more. "Doesn't mean you always have your shield on you." Her arms wound tightly around his neck as they waited out their last moments.

_Hoooowwwwwlllll..._

"Okay, any last confessions on three," Steve blurted. "One, two, three-"

"I'm totally in love with Ingrid Michaelson."

"I'm the one that makes all the cupcakes!"

"Wait, what?!" Each of them regarded the other like they were nuts.

_Hooooooowwwwlllllll..._

"It was nice knowing you, Rogers." Natasha whimpered.

"AAAAAGGGGHHH!" A strangely familiar figure raced through the camp, the fact which was lost on both Steve and Natasha, who both screamed bloody murder.

"IT'S THE MENTAL CHIEF!"

But would the chief trip over a pile of wood?

"GODDAMN FIRE!"

Steve paused. "Clint?"

Natasha could feel herself going a beetroot red. "...Tell me we weren't just scared of _Clint._"

Steve guiltily released the spy from his grip. "I think we just were."

"I get chased ten miles by a bear, and this is the welcome I get?" Clint demanded. "Some friends you are."

"It's the middle of the night." Natasha stated flatly, already burrowing back into her sleeping bag. "I'll decide in the morning whether to welcome you or not." She turned to Steve, who was embarrassedly burying his face into his pillow. "Anyone breathes a word of this to Tony and they die."

His response was muffled. "Agreed."

* * *

"BY THE ASGARDIAN GODS, THIS IVY OF POISON HATH SET OUT TO CONQUER ME!"

This time, when Steve cracked his eyes open, sunlight peeped through, instead of the moon's rays.

Thor was writhing on the ground, a worried Bruce presiding over him. "He's got internal itching."

"Well," Steve shrugged. "We can't just make him swallow calamine lotion. That would be poisonous for anyone, human or not."

Bruce sighed. "Thought so. I'll call Fury." His gaze swept over the camp, doing a double take at Clint in his sleeping bag. "When'd he get back?"

Steve glanced over at Natasha, who was supposedly still sleeping. Only she'd cracked an eye open, fixing him with a glare.

_Don't you dare say a damn word._

"Well," he hedged, "if you really want to know, I'd blame Tony..."

* * *

**Please read and review? Pretty please? Best review gets cooking lessons from Steve!**

**I'll try to shoot for Friday this time, I promise. But I have a football game, so we'll see...I'll try. I really will. :)**


	10. Trying To Give Relationship Talks

**Wow, this is a long one. Apologies again that this is on Saturday morning, but...football and my grade kinda had to win first. Speaking of which, OUR TEAM ACTUALLY WON. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. **

**Shoutout to KittyKatt25 for following the story (and me as an author! I hope I don't disappoint :D) **

**Steve now has to go cook with Libbytheblackcat, who risked dying in Physics to read the last chapter...that was the greatest. Thing. Ever. **

**ROMANOGERS EVERYWHERE. Well. The makings of Romanogers, anyways :D Enjoy!**

* * *

The elevator dinged open with a _whoosh, _revealing Steve trudging resignedly into the common room, blond hair dripping puddles onto the floor. He was soaked from head to toe, black sweatshirt a limp mass of cotton and polyester, his recently purchased pair of jeans sticking to his skin. None of that compared to the stormy look on his face, however, in which the storm outside paled in comparison.

"Whoa, whoa, not on the carpet!" Tony joked, backing off when at a glare from the normally chipper super soldier. "Geez, Steve, I was kidding-what happened?"

"I'm fine," Steve sighed, hoisting himself onto a stool. Tony forcefully refrained himself from cracking a joke about ruining the furniture-not appropriate for a depressed Steve Rogers.

"That date went badly, huh?" Tony murmured, turning around to find his mug. A few minutes later, a steaming cup of hot chocolate was plunked onto the counter, complete with a heaping pile of whipped cream and sprinkle of cinnamon, just the way Steve liked it. But Steve simply sighed and moodily stared at the cup, too dejected to drink his favorite concoction.

"Come on, man," Tony sat himself in a stool across from his friend. "Go ahead, tell Uncle Tony what happened."

"Women these days are so forward," Steve sighed, eyeing his drink. Giving in to temptation, he took a large swig of the hot chocolate, leaving a smudge of whipped cream on his nose. "She showed up in the most inappropriate attire and tried to tell me she was a good person on the inside."

"What was she wearing?" Tony asked out of pure curiosity. He'd set up Steve on dates with glitzy supermodels before; the man had taken them all in stride. What made this any different?

"She showed up in nothing but body paint." Tony choked back his laughter. Steve just glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Cap." Tony's tone immediately sobered. "And she tried to tell you _what_?"

"That she had a moral code," Steve snorted, inhaling more hot chocolate. "That she didn't believe in the whole 'sex-before-marriage' thing. How was I supposed to believe her in _just_ body paint?"

"Your tone suggests a worse part," Tony said grimly. "There's a worse part, isn't there?"

"She tried to ask me for money."

The normally unflappable Iron Man fell off of his stool with a squawk.

"Did you give her any?" he spluttered from the floor.

"No." Steve shook his head, scattering several drops of water in the process. "I've never met someone so morally hypocritical. Having morals with that sort of self-image, my behind. It was awful walking home. And then I got caught in the downpour," he added sheepishly, gesturing to his soaked outfit.

"Barton lent you that sweatshirt for a reason," Tony sighed, picking himself off of the floor. "You gotta trust me when I tell you this, Cap: we all thought this was going to work," he told him, patting him on the back. "We all did."

"I did too, Tony, " Steve despondently answered, slipping off of his stool and heading to his own room. "Really does prove how out of place I am,"

Tony waited until Steve was out of earshot, then glared at the redhead perched in the vents. She was watching the scene on her elbows, chin collected in her hands. "Natashalie, you're so dead. You set him up with one of those impressionists in Times Square? I'll be lucky if he comes out of his room after this."

The normally calm and collected spy sighed, concern brimming in her emerald eyes. "I know. I'm gonna try and talk to him."

"What were you thinking?"

"I thought it would work, Stark, okay?" she ground out, frustrated.

"How the _hell _did you-?"

"ROMANOFF! ARE YOU IN THE VENTS AGAIN?!" Clint's voice sounded through the hollow passages of metal, causing Tony and Natasha to jump. Clint had lately had a thing about people being in his vents-Tony had taken to calling it 'VPMS''-Vental PMS. This was the third time Natasha had snuck into the vents, despite Clint posting signs and booby traps everywhere. Steve's well being justified possibly dying at Clint's hands, she figured.

"Shit." She whispered. "I'll talk to Steve," she promised, beginning to edge away from the vent's opening.

"No," Tony answered. "I'll do it. You've done enough." Worry creased her face as Tony turned away; worried for what Tony might try to say to Steve, and worried for Steve in general-how badly had she messed up?

"ROMANOFF!"

Never mind. She could dwell on that later.

* * *

"Dude, it's been raining for days," Clint remarked, staring out communal room's floor-to-ceiling window. "What's up with Thor?" It was the fifth day of rain, and despite Clint being fond of the gloomy weather, there was only so much he could take before he went crazy. Everyone had been pranked at least once, leading to several wild goose chases that had been entertaining at first, but had quickly lost their appeal when Natasha landed Clint in the medical wing, having been too upset over messing up Steve's date to play along in her usual sarcastic way.

"You know, just because the weather's crappy doesn't mean we can always blame Thor," Bruce answered, on his way to make a cup of tea. "I'm pretty sure there's an awful weather system in place,"

"Yeah, but a flash of lightning goes off every time someone mentions the name 'Jane'," Clint observed. As if on cue, a flash of lightning briefly lit up the room. "You see what I mean?"

"Maybe that was coincidence," he argued. "Jane." More lightning. "Okay, so maybe it's not_ totally_ natural, then." He knew that Thor had just had an ugly argument with Jane Foster, and hadn't left his room for days, absolutely refusing to answer any of them.

"Great, first Cap, now Thor." Clint sighed. "I need to stop lending out my sweatshirts. They seems to have a habit of screwing up dates."

"Yes, which is why you're going to help me fix this," Tony announced, striding into the room, his presence brightening the rainy atmosphere like an outbreak of sun. "I've come up with a plan to fix Spangles and Point Break at the same time."

"Tell me this doesn't involve alcohol, Tony." Bruce groaned.

"It doesn't." Tony answered seriously. Bruce raised an eyebrow suspiciously at him. "Really! It doesn't!"

"Pray tell, then, Stark, what _does _it entail?" If it didn't involve alcohol, Clint mused, something had to be up. Probably involving money and more interested parties than he could count. Steve wasn't going to like this at _all_. But then again, when did he ever?

"We're gonna give Spangles and Point Break the talk they never had," Tony proclaimed. "Delivered by the tower's relationship experts, Iron Man and Hawkeye." What talk...? Oh. _That_ talk. An education on modern dating, delivered by the worst advocate for modern dating, ever. Clint groaned inwardly. He should've known that something of this caliber was coming. Hopefully, at the very least, this involved several potential dates set up by Tony by the end of the day. He'd take whatever Steve left behind. He wasn't complaining.

"_You're_ going to try and educate Steve and Thor on modern dating?" Bruce snickered from the kitchen, sipping his tea from his signature green mug. "I think you'd have a better chance educating the Other Guy. No offense, Clint," he added to the archer as an afterthought. "Just that Steve's going to be impossible to teach,"

"Not only are _Barton_ and I going to educate them on the wonders that is today's society, we're going to test those skills on tonight's soiree." Tony answered, slightly miffed at the insinuation that he had no ability to manage a modern love life. "There's lots of important figures that are going to be there tonight," he stated confidently. "And I happen to know that a certain senator's daughter just happens to be recently single. Trust me, by the end of tonight, Capsicle's going to be walking out with a new girlfriend."

* * *

"Tell me why I'm here again, Stark?" Steve queried, rubbing his temples. He'd been all set to head down to the training room and maybe dislocate a few punching bags-whatever it took to get the disaster known as the date out of his mind. Tony had shown up right when he was having down, and being the polite man he was, he was now sitting on the couch, with a gleeful Tony.

"I'm going to educate you," Tony announced, rubbing his hands together. "You're going to learn how to woo a girl in today's modern day and age."

"Don't you think I've already tried?" Really. All he wanted to do was punch a couple of bags. Maybe spar a bit with Natasha-she wouldn't ask any questions, much less try to_ educate _Steve on dating. He hadn't seen her in a while, though. He'd have to ask Clint where she was, as soon as he recovered from the beating she'd given him.

It wasn't like Steve to worry constantly-every single member of the team had consistently proved that they could handle themselves in a situation, Natasha most especially. Call him old-fashioned, but he still worried when a couple of days went by and he hadn't seen her. Of course, he wouldn't tell her that-Steve vehemently preferred all of his body parts, thank you very much. But still, he recently missed their little moments-especially after she'd finished beating up Clint for playing a prank on her, giving him that full-blown smile, the rare one that made his heart stutter a bit. The sidelong looks. The sideways smirks.

And, of course, setting him up on those dates. He'd patiently agreed to go on the ones she'd arranged for him, too afraid to tell her who he'd _really_ wanted to go on date with-a certain redhead that put up with his fumblings, laughed at his jokes, and knew him inside and out. Not that he'd mention it. She was way out of his league: cool, cynical and everything he wasn't. Never a million years would she go for him. He was sure of it.

"Cap? Cap?"

Tony's voice crudely brought Steve back to reality, snapping the man to the forefront of his thoughts, away from any possible self-lamenting or pity. "You in there, Cap?"

Steve blinked. "Yeah, I'm listening."

"Tell me what I just said, then." Steve racked his brain for any recollection of what Tony had just said. Truthfully, he hadn't absorbed a thing, but he wasn't about to admit that. Tony took the silence as an answer. "You weren't listening, were you?"

"Just thinking, Tony."

"And that's the thing about dating," Tony explained to Steve, continuing as if he hadn't caught the super soldier with his thoughts elsewhere. "Today, it doesn't require thinking. Just go with what your gut tells you. If you plan things out in your head, it's gonna look like you planned all of this beforehand. Makes you look sleazy. My advice-just go with the flow. Don't set requirements beforehand. And that's really all you need to know."

"So you're saying just to improvise everything?" Steve asked, doubtful. "The dam-I mean, women-actually prefer spontaneity?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Tony nodded, glad that Steve had gotten it on the first try. "Just go out there and be yourself. Without the actual 'over worried gentleman' thing that you always seem to do. Look, Steve. You've got this. I _know_ you've got this. Women will fall head over heels for you tonight."

"I'll give it a shot, Tony," Steve answered. "Might not work, though." He didn't tell him about the quiet self-assurance that had gradually filled the super soldier during the course of their conversation, not wanting to boost Tony's ego more than he already had by letting him go on with his spiel.

"As long as you try, man," Tony replied seriously, inwardly grinning. "Now. Go see Pepper. I believe she has to fit you for a suit."

Steve sighed. "Another suit?"

* * *

"So what you are advising, Friend Barton, is that I should not try and be a gallant man," Thor clarified to Clint, reclining precariously in his chair. It'd taken Clint a good half an hour to find the Asgardian, and sitting him down after that had taken even more effort, more so than actually delivering the actual talk. The next time he had to deliver a talk, Clint swore Tony was going to have to deal with Thor. He'd deal with Steve, no matter how moralistic he was going to be. "It would be more advisable to go with my base decisions."

"Yes, Thor. That's exactly what I'm saying." Finally, he grasped the subject. Clint thought he was going to have to shoot Thor should he ask for clarification _one more time_. "Just go with the flow," he told him. "Don't think about what might come later. Unless, of course, it comes to the deed. _Then_ you should probably spare a few brain cells for the future." A confused frown wrinkled Thor's face.

"The deed? What 'deed' do you speak of?"

"It's-it's-never mind," Clint answered hastily. "Don't even about it. In fact, forget I said it." Eager to change the subject, he added, "Have you gotten fitted for your suit yet?"

"That's what I was going to ask," An impatient Pepper Potts was now at the doorway, foot tapping. "And_ you_," she threw at Clint, "I seem to recall, haven't come in yet, either. So both of you, let's go."

"I shall take your advice to heart, Friend Barton," Thor grunted as he got up from his chair. "Much thanks on your imparting. I am sure that, with this, I can quickly move on from..._her_." With that, he strode out of the room, leaving an apprehensive Clint and shocked Pepper.

"You better not have ruined my OTP," she hissed venomously at him, eyes flashing. "That and Romanogers is the only thing I live for."

"Don't we all root for dear old Stasha?" he drawled in return. "And let's not forget, the Pepperony's always good," he added, as her jaw dropped open. "Always Pepperony." He continued down the hallway, despite her indignant sputters and squawks. Damn if he didn't look good tonight-he had a suit to fit.

* * *

"Whoa. Rogers, you really are aiming high tonight, aren't you?"

Steve was simply dressed in a form fitting white tuxedo with a black tie tucked into the folds of his suit, complete with white dress pants. His blond hair was causally ruffled, giving him the carefully styled look that many men seemed to envy, needing copious amounts of hair gel to even_ try _to emulate it. The biggest change was in his eyes, however. Before, they were a dark, drowned ocean, but now held a sparkle, an unexplainable excitement that not even Tony could match in his most inebriated state. He nervously scuffed his Italian leather shoes against the lobby tile, abashed at the reaction. "You like it, Nat?"

"There's definitely going to be a lot of women on the warpath tonight," she chuckled, shooting him the grin he loved so much. If only she had the nerve to call him hers, she lamented. But who was she to deserve him? Every seven-year-old's idol. The epitome of the American Dream. No, he deserved someone who could keep up that image. Not her, the fucked-up Russian assassin with a questionable past, and even motives that had people wondering from time to time. It was why all those dates had been necessary. To push him away from her, believing that if he found the right person, she'd be able to sleep at last. But so far, no one had won him over-not even her latest attempt, the impressionist in Times Square. So maybe it hadn't been her best choice. "You sure you're ready for this, Rogers?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Oh, that nervous, sheepish grin that always made her melt a tiny bit on the inside. Why was fate so cruel?

"Nat! You look absolutely _stunning_!" Pepper's voice floated into the lobby, popping Steve and Natasha's private bubble. Natasha glanced down at the dress she'd spent countless hours looking for with Pepper, no easy feat (the woman had been determined to hit every boutique on Fifth Avenue and beyond,) and smirked slightly to herself. Admittedly, navy hadn't her first choice, but one look at the dress and she'd allowed herself just_ one_ try. It was strapless-quite the bonus-and flowed something like a kimono, gathering at the bottom, giving her a sort of shapelessness, but one that held mystery instead of blandness. Matching heels fitted her feet, the result of another couple of hours with Pepper arguing with the store's manager, insisting that they'd _better _find her size, dammit, and did they even know who she was? She'd run her hair through the flatiron for the occasion, letting it brush her shoulders lightly. _Someone_ was getting lucky tonight. Regrettably enough, it just wasn't going to be Natasha's person of choice.

"Attention all! Penguin alert! Prepare the buckets of fish!" Tony boisterously arrived, brandishing an imaginary trumpet. He'd gone gold for the occasion, the rich fabric smoothly flowing with each movement. "Clint Barton, ladies and gentlemen!"

Clint hobbled into the room, clad in a sophisticated charcoal suit that brought out the sharpness in his features-but also his injuries. His black tie was slightly askew, which Natasha immediately stepped up to adjust.

"Pepper beat the crap out of me," he grumbled as she redid the knot. "I swear to God, Tasha, has she been learning from you?" She shrugged lightly, stepping back to admire her work.

"Well-you look like less of a penguin now, at least."

Tony sorted at that statement.

* * *

Drinking, conversation, dancing, propositions... Yup. All the makings of a successful Stark party, Tony mused, gazing out from his vantage point. Bruce was over making conversation with another scientist-God knows _what _her name was, as long as anything didn't blow up. Natashalie was haunting the bar with Barton-what else was new-and Pepper seemed to be enjoying herself. Or as much as one could in five inch heels.

But Steve. Man. Steve_ really _had hit the jackpot tonight, he and Thor seemingly scooping up every available girl in the room. Thank goodness Pepper knew the two well, or else Tony would have feared for his masculinity as well as his relationship. The two amicably chatted with each new girl they encountered, with Thor letting out the occasional booming laugh whenever one of them made a joke. Tony's lessons seemed to be going into place, then, and judging by the progress Thor had made, Clint had driven his point home as well.

Now, where was the congratulatory champagne?

* * *

"You did what?" a ditzy blonde giggled, drunkenly hanging into Steve's arm. She'd been attached to him for the last ten minutes, earning reproachful glares from the gaggle surrounding him and Thor.

Truthfully, Tony's advice on being spontaneous had actually worked...to some extent. It had definitely allowed him to connect with people on a whole new level, even if said people were drunk. At least he hadn't had to worry about initial impressions. They'd always been a sort of pet peeve to Steve, having to create a new cover story every time he was on a date. But not tonight. Tonight, he could relax and go where the tide took him.

Like to that brunette across the room...

* * *

"You okay, Tash?"

Clint's worried voice intruded upon her thoughts, causing her to give him a withering glare. _Rule number one when having to deal with a pissed Black Widow: never, ever, __ever__ talk. _Her clipped words filled their silence.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Because she was. She really, really was. She wasn't glaring at the blonde fawning over Steve and planning how to kill her, no siree...

"Because I just drank the last of your vodka and you didn't say a thing." Indeed, as she glanced over at her empty bottle which she'd requesitioned for the night, it was empty. Clint must've snuck the last dregs when she wasn't looking. Normally, this would've been the point in which she would attempt to murder him. Today, though...

"Hmm. Guess you did. Maybe you're on your way to being a better spy, then." She waved a hand towards the bar, the bartender etching a worried look on his face as he brought over another bottle, Tony having paid him a good amount of money to provide only bottles for the night.

"Ma'am, are you sure that you're not drinking too much? I mean, this is the strongest vodka we have, and-"

"Hey, pal," Clint interrupted. "I'm guessing you're new here-yeah, thought so," he said as the bartender nodded fearfully. "Here's the thing when it comes to the Black Widow: never try to cut her off. She'll cut something off of you that's just as valuable, I promise you." All of this was said in a completely casual tone, but it was hard to miss the threat. Shaking, the bartender set down the bottle and scurried away. Natasha nodded her thanks, her eyes still narrowed on the girls surrounding Steve.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong now, after I just scared the crap out of the bartender for you?" Silence. He followed her gaze towards Steve and Thor, immediately understanding. "Ah, I see. Always knew you had a thing for Asgardian royalty."

"What?" Natasha snapped her head towards him, almost whipping him in the face with her tresses. "_I do NOT have a thing for Thor!_"

"My bad," Clint snorted. "Must be the blonde, then. You know, you can tell us if you swing that way. No one's going to judge you for it. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can introduce you two. I think she's the senator's daughter-Samantha, her name might be? I don't know, maybe I'm imagining things and I-"

"Fuck off, Barton." Three words so eloquently said that they managed to convey a whole other meaning for Clint.

"It's Rogers, isn't it?" She sighed and cracked open the bottle as an answer. "Why don't you just tell him?" The only response he received was a long chug of the alcohol, in which Clint immediately ducked as she spit it out in a surprised stream.

"This is water."

"I'll kill the bartender. You keep an eye on Rogers," he suggested. Natasha nodded, and he left in search of the poor man. Her gaze swiveled over the party once more, landing on Steve, who was dancing with a curvy brunette in ways that she was sure would normally make him blush. Her stomach roiled, and Natasha thought she was going to puke-not just because of the alcohol.

_You got me runnin' round town like a woman on a warpath_

Ingrid Michaelson's "Warpath" began to blare, the lights dimming to their least. Now was a good time as ever, she decided, and slipped off of her stool, not swaying in the slightest, despite the whole bottle (minus Clint swiping the last drops) she'd consumed over the course of the night. Natasha was on a mission. One she didn't intend to fail.

Her heels clacked across the floor in time with the song's pulsing beat. People automatically moved out of her way upon seeing her fierce demeanor, her face set in a cool, composed mask. Slowly, she moved towards the group, both men unawares as they fraternized with various women. Natasha noted that none of them seemed to be redheads, and idly wondered why.

_You got the hands to make 'em all buckle and blush_

She considered just dropping one with an accurately placed pulse pinch, but decided against it. So she waited. Edged her way slowly into the group bit by bit, Steve unnoticing the whole time.

_I'm gonna live forever and it hurts so much_

"Why, hi, I'm Steve Rogers, what's-Nat." Steve stopped cold. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't answer, only pulled his head down to her to give him a searing kiss that surprised the both of them at its intensity. Steve pulled back in disbelief, slightly shaking his head at what had transpired.

"Nat, you're drunk," he told her, mentally cursing himself for reciprocating. "Don't do this to yourself, you're going to regret it in the morning-"

"Do I look drunk, Rogers?" Her scrutinizing green eyes met his, perfectly sober in their appearance.

"Why me, then?"

Natasha was about to respond in kind-no way he would've kissed her like that if he hadn't felt something-but was rudely interrupted by one of the party's blondes tapping her shoulder.

"Find your own, bitch." The slurred statement was accompanied by a slap, a blow that Natasha didn't even try to dodge. Gave her an excuse to start a fight, anyways.

* * *

"Why'd you hold me back? I could've taken her!"

Steve and Natasha were huddled outside of the police station, the pouring rain surrounding the both of them as they stood under a weak awning. Natasha's fight had just happened to be with Samantha, the senator's daughter (Clint had been right, after all). Black Widow or not, assault had still been assault. Thus leading to a long night at the local police station with Steve, who had tried to restrain her from killing the poor girl.

"She could've injured you," Steve answered seriously. "Those heels looked pretty sharp."

"And since when did you worry about me?" she asked, more to herself than him. He sincerely gazed at her then, and she looked back, suddenly self-conscious.

"Always."

The one word caused Natasha's eyes to water a bit, and before she knew it, she was in Steve's arms, him comfortingly rubbing her back. Putting her at a bit of an arm's length, he kissed her then, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Hey! If it isn't our favorite Romanogers," Tony called from his car in the street. "Are you guys gonna get in the car or just stand there all night making out like teenagers?" They separated then, Steve with a contented chuckle, her with various vows to kill Tony at the next opportune moment. Arm in arm, they ran towards the car, climbing in, looking surprised to see Clint in the backseat.

"Told you it would work, Barton," Tony proclaimed confidently as they started towards Stark Tower.

"...what worked, you two?" Tony hesitated at Natasha's words, carefully choosing his next sentence.

"Clint and I...may or may not have given Capsicle and Point Break a relationship talk,"

Neither Tony nor Clint was seen again that night. The next morning, an inch-thick manila file was present on Coulson's desk, prompting the thought that, yes, maybe he _should_ take a vacation...

* * *

**This Friday, I SWEAR. Read and review! Please? Best review gets one of Clint's sweatshirts...not one of the breakup ones xD**

**And oh, yeah. If you haven't noticed...lol, I'm addicted to Ingrid Michaelson songs at the moment xD **


	11. Irrational and Humiliating Things

**I'm actually typing this really fast right now so I can still update one day late and not two. I've decided to change my update day to Saturday, just because it seems like I'm more likely to update then than on a Friday :) For some reason, this one's really long. Probably because this week was the dreaded Spirit Week at my school (and we actually won our homecoming game say what?) and my best friend just completely...yeah. I have a complicated relationship with someone right now and it just wasn't going well. (Sorry y'all have to hear about my love life xD)**

**Shoutout to You can run but you can't hide, mourningsongg, RachelTheSilentKunoichi, and FanFictionQueen1 for following! (I'm going to PM you if you've got the best review-it's getting really late right now, and my mom may or may not kill me, so...**

* * *

Maria Hill stared at her desk. There was no way that paperwork was hers. There was absolutely, positively _no way in hell _that was her paperwork. Events like that just didn't happen. People didn't get assigned boatloads of paperwork like this for fun. For God's sake, _she _was the one who usually assigned the grueling assignments!

Almost six inches of paperwork, stacked neatly into six manila folders piled one on top of the other. Various staples stuck out of the ends, some more than others. Two of the folders were especially thick-and considering their subjects, she wasn't surprised. Hill sighed and rubbed her eyes, reading over the labels on the reinforced manila folders _one more time, _checking to make sure she hadn't made a mistake.

_Banner, Bruce_

_Barton, Clinton Francis_

_Odinson, Thor_

_Rogers, Steven Grant_

_Romanoff, Natasha_

_Stark, Anthony_

Nope. The names were still there, with the various burn marks from the time Barton had tried to cover up his latest shenanigans by burning his paperwork. That was when they'd gone electronic. But apparently, something called for carbon copies again, which only meant something major had happened.

And judging by the sizes of Stark's, Barton's and Odinson's files, something really _had _gone down.

"It's an ugly pile, isn't it?"

She whirled around to see Director Fury, standing in the doorway, face impassive as they both glared at the nightmare that was the Avengers' paperwork.

"With all due respect, sir, isn't this Agent Coulson's paperwork?" she asked him, now only remembering that the handler was the one who normally handled these sorts of situations. "Doesn't he love doing this stuff?"

"Not this time, it seems." Even Fury had a sympathetic undertone to his voice as he answered. "The man took one look at the paperwork for these situations and decided he'd take a vacation." Her silence hung in the air as answer enough for the both of them.

Phil Coulson was a dead man. And Maria Hill intended to be the one to kill him.

Of course, after she figured out just _what_ the hell the Avengers had done this time.

* * *

**Steve**

"Agent Hill."

"For this one, call me Maria," she answered as she swept into his apartment upon Steve's opening the door. His folder was clutched in her hand, a fact that wasn't missed by the super soldier as he closed the door behind her, worriedly following her into his living room. "I have a feeling it's going to be awhile."

"Did I do something wrong?" he wondered. "I swear I tried to convince Stark against hacking the Times Square Jumbotron. I absolutely _swear_. And I've been sparring with the junior agents daily, and I returned all of the library books-" He had. He really had. Tony had been drunk, Pepper had been nowhere to be seen, and all of the Avengers had conspicuously been absent, leaving Steve to deal with dissuading the man. No one mentioned just _what _Tony had broadcast on the Jumbotron. It wasn't something anyone liked to talk about.

"I don't want to hear about Stark and the Jumbotron," she interrupted, waving the thin folder. He fell silent. "In fact, let's pretend that that never happened, because that just means more paperwork. I'm here to talk about this," She opened the folder, quickly scanning its contents. "There was an incident a couple of days ago? Something about you lecturing Howard Stern in the middle of his show?"

"_Why would you ever talk about women like that? Public figures, especially people like __you__, should know how to treat them well, and definitely not like the sleazy greaseball you're acting like now. Back in my day, we treated women like our equals, not like expendable objects. I think that it's an absolute shame to see how society's de-evolved to this, leering and making innuendos. It's absolutely horrendous. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Stern?" _

"Oh. That." Steve fidgeted. "See, that's actually kind of humiliating, considering who he was and everything, and considering where I was...you know what, it was all Stark's fault in the first place! He wanted to get me onto the show!" Hill took a few moments to read a description of the incident while Steve buried his head in his hands.

"Says here that you gave him a blistering lecture on his morals, and how he should be treating women better than the, and I quote, 'sleazy greaseball' that he is?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Hmm. Good for you to stick up for the ladies, Cap."

"Well, _someone _had to do it," he muttered. "The man was talking about the number of girls he'd-well-er-_fondued _with as if it was some sort of victory number. I had to set him straight."

"News flash: numbers like those are unfortunately very common these days," she informed him, settling onto a bar stool, Steve joining the one next to her. "Mainly all you've got here is a demand from the show to reiterate your statement and issue a formal apology to the man, and if that doesn't go through, they're prepared to sue..."

"I'm not taking back what I said." he scoffed defiantly. "I'll issue an apology, but I'm not going to take it back."

"You can tell the world that," Hill answered, deftly fishing a pen out of her back pocket, beginning to fill in the paperwork's required blanks. "Name, Steve Grant Rogers, Residence, Avengers Tower..."

"You don't have to do that, ma-I mean, Agent Hill," Steve stammered upon her glare. "I can do the paperwork, if you'd like. I promise I won't try to burn it-" There was a wince from the mention of the incident. "-and I'll try to get it back to you as soon as possible."

"I guess that makes my job easier," she shrugged, slapping the folder shut and handing it over. "It's honestly not that much, and I'd normally do it myself, but Barton and Odinson racked up a helluva amount of paperwork."

"Ah." Recognition showed on Steve's face. "_That._"

* * *

**Bruce**

"Dr. Banner?"

Hill's voice rang through the lab, her heels announcing her arrival far earlier than her voice had. "Do you have a moment?" The scientist turn around in his chair, glasses askew down his nose. Ink spatters were present on his nose and fingers, another marring his cheek as he tried to push up his glasses.

"Is this about Stark and the Jumbotron?" he inquired. "Because we were all against the idea. Steve tried to restrain him, Natasha almost shot him, and Thor was halfway to brewing up a thunderstorm to distract him, and-"

"No, but the Jumbotron incident seems to have to be something to look into," she muttered, opening up the remarkably thin file. "I'm here about the-_tea_?" She gave him an incredulous look. "_Please _tell me you're joking. I really, really hope you're joking." When Bruce shook his head, she sighed. "Really, Dr. Banner? _Tea_?"

"So maybe I ordered one crate too many past the legal limit!" he protested. "Who knew there was a limit on how much tea you could order, anyways?"

"Anyone who took American History long enough," she dryly remarked, shoving the folder at him. "The government's launching an official investigation as to why you ordered so much tea."

"You can't be serious!" Bruce protested, reading the writing on the first document . "'We, as judicious members of the FBI, the undersigned..." He snapped the folder shut again and handed it to Hill. "You _are _serious."

"Completely. Would you like to inform me why you ordered so much tea?"

"We go through a crate a week!" Bruce exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Someone keeps drinking all the tea! I figured that I if just get enough tea to make it through a year, we'd be set. Plus, there's this new Asian tea I just discovered, and there's only twelve packets to a box," he reasoned. "Ergo, I need a lot of tea."

"Do you have any other words to say in your defense, Dr. Banner?" Hill asked.

"Yeah-whoever's drinking all my tea, _stop drinking it!_" Bruce crossed his arms childishly.

"Duly noted," she answered, noting it into the folder. "Don't worry, at least you're being honest. They shouldn't judge you too harshly for that." Bruce's eyes widened.

"Wait, I actually have to go court for this?!" he shrieked. "Just because someone's drinking all of my tea?!" He turned to a small camera in the corner of the room. "JARVIS, any idea on who it is?"

"It seems to be Agents Barton and Romanoff, sir." Hill said nothing, but raised an eyebrow as Bruce choked in surprise. "Agent Barton wanted to find out, and I quote, 'just what was so great about this shit that Bruce drinks it so often'. Agent Romanoff found it to be more stimulating than standard coffee, especially the green tea." Hill snickered at the image of the redheaded assassin drinking tea. Of all things.

"So, in my defense, I'm going to blame Barton and Romanoff," Bruce concluded, turning back to Hill. "Then again, they can pretty much be blamed for everything."

"Unfortunately, neither Agents Barton nor Romanoff can be blamed at the moment, Dr. Banner," JARVIS explained apologetically. "They seem to both be...detained."

"Wonderful," Bruce deadpanned. "Can I at least blame it on Tony?" At the AI's silence, he groaned. "No? How about Thor?"

"They're all detained at the moment, sir. Miss Potts seems to be in the process of securing their releases."

"Well, Potts better not let them out until I file the paperwork on their asses," she growled. "You've got court on the seventh, Dr. Banner," she addressed him, clicking a pen and handing over the appropriate form to sign. "Just sign in the blanks. And make sure you get a suit this time."

"This is legit," Bruce sighed. "This is actually legit. I'm going to court, Barton and Romanoff are drinking tea, and I'm going to court...for _tea._" He scrawled his name and date in the blanks, handing the forms back over resignedly. "Tea. The Other Guy isn't even going to court. I am. For _tea._"

"I wouldn't suggest a gray tie," she suggested, turning on her heel and starting towards the door. "Blue suggests truth. Oh, one more thing-try and have Rogers pick out your suit, won't you? The last time Stark picked out your suit, you look like an absolute mess in front of the cameras." And with that, she was out the door, Bruce staring after her with a shocked look on his face.

* * *

**Natasha**

"Thanks for getting me out, Pepper," Natasha sighed as she stretched, several joints cracking as she strode out of the cell. "Trust me, I would've broken out within the hour, but seeing as I _am_ an Avenger, I suppose I have a reputation to uphold..."

"You would've broken out of a concrete room, guarded by 15 ex-Marines between here and the door?" Pepper answered incredulously, regarding the cell in which she'd come to release the spy. "Even I find that a little hard to believe."

"All I can say is, the guards are getting _really _bad at checking people for concealed weapons," Natasha told her, fluidly shrugging on her coat. The glint of a small pocketknife exposed itself from a rise in her loose, long-sleeved sweater, and Pepper had to admit-armed with any knife, even a small one, Natasha would've gotten out quite easily. "I can take it from here. I suppose you have other people to bail out?"

"Actually, yes, I do." Pepper scowled in no general direction. "Tony, Barton, and Thor have all managed to screw up something or other. I just got the call-Barton and Thor are being held on 161st East, and Tony's trying to explain to the entire NYPD what happened to the Statue of Liberty." She shuddered. "I swear, this is worse than the Jumbotron."

"I keep hearing the Jumbotron being mentioned," Hill interrupted, striding in. She was clearly grappling with a large manila folder, while several pieces of paper tried to make their escape. Hill was having none of it, keeping a firm grip on the folder's edges. She turned to Natasha. "I'm not going to restrain you or anything, but you're not going anywhere until you finish this goddamn paperwork, Romanoff." The folder was opened. "You were detained on charges of compromising national security and reckless endangerment. Also disturbing the peace." She gave Natasha a deadpan look. "You weren't drunk, by any chance, were you?"

"Am I ever drunk, Hill?"

"Good point. The UN's looking to bring you in on charges of attempted treason, good for five or more years in prison. These goons-" Hill jerked a thumb at the guards behind her. "-are looking to apprehend you on reckless endangerment. I read the file. So tell me what _really _happened before I tear up the paperwork that's going to save your sorry little ass."

Natasha sighed and turned to Pepper, who had a smirk on her face. "Don't give her that look," she scolded the assistant. "I'll tell her the truth. But only over food," she conditioned to Hill. "I haven't eaten since breakfast this morning, and since it's 2 in the afternoon..."

"Fine." Hill spat. "Food, then paperwork."

"I'm sure we can balance out the two," she answered sweetly. "Good luck bailing out Stark" was snorted at Pepper, who just rolled her eyes and set off on a brisk walk, presumably to catch a taxi to her next location. Natasha gave an apprehending eye to the folder in Hill's hand. "Is that all mine?"

"Please. I've got Stark's, Barton's, and Odinson's in the car."

* * *

"Okay, so let's spread out the paperwork by incident here." Hill rearranged the precarious amounts of paperwork. "You've got the UN incident-" A finger pointed towards a large stack of papers about half an inch thick. "-and you've got the Empire State Building here. Which one do you want to start with?"

"Let's start with the building," Natasha answered through a mouthful of her zucchini parm sandwich. "I don't want to talk about the UN right now." She spat a jalapeno seed onto a napkin, making no comment on the fontina plastered on her cheek.

"The building it is then," Hill sighed, dragging the lesser of the two evils towards her. She honestly would've preferred getting the larger one over with first, but the large stack of paperwork seemed to be an ego-crusher for Romanoff-whatever reasons be cited-and no one wanted to piss off a recently-bailed-out Black Widow. She took a bite out of her own ham sandwich, some coleslaw falling out and onto her napkin. "What exactly did you do?"

"I jumped off of the building," Natasha shrugged. "What's there to talk about?"

"Maybe the fact that you're an _Avenger_ and people recognize your face _just about everywhere,_" Hill muttered, staring at the coleslaw. She could've picked the small glob up and popped it into her mouth, but that would require getting her hands dirty and another napkin and she couldn't afford Romanoff running off while she went to get another napkin... "So excuse me if a bunch of calls came in to the NYPD, claiming that the Black Widow, of all people, was about to jump off of Empire State Building."

"I had a bungee cord," Natasha answered nonchalantly. "The idiots just couldn't see it."

"Well, you're going to have to issue a statement on the incident," Hill told her, clicking a pen in one hand with her sandwich in the other. "What's it going to be?" The spy sighed heavily, chomping another bit out of her sandwich before rolling her eyes.

"Fine. I'm _sorry _that I scared the crap out of a bunch of weak New Yorkers who can't even handle a thrill in their lives. I wasn't suicidal or any of that crap, I was just trying to have a little fun, because Stark had been out for the day and Coulson was babysitting Steve and I before he went off-" Natasha's mouth closed suddenly with a _snap_. Hill was suddenly very curious as to what the second part of her sentence had been. "I stole one of Stark's invisible bungee cords. Prototype. I don't think he even knows it's gone."

"Apologizes for disturbing the daily lives of several New Yorkers, was a misguided attempt to find some thrills, yada yada yada..." She scribbled down Natasha's mini-monologue onto the side of the folder, then looked up into her face expectantly. "What was Coulson doing, Romanoff?"

"Why would you want to know?" A small smirk graced the Black Widow's features. "You have a thing for him, don't you, Hill?"

"Like hell I do," Hill considered herself the master of glares second only to Natasha-so it was no surprise when the spy didn't recoil. "Bastard stuck me with all of this paperwork. I need to fry his ass. Plus, I know he's got a thing for someone."

"Mhmm. Got that right," she answered, picking at the zucchini flopping out of the edges of her sandwich. "The last time I checked, he was sounding pretty damn desperate."

"The last time you checked?" Hill sputtered, finished filling out the Empire State Building paperwork, mentally reminding herself to put a spin on Romanoff's statement later. "What the hell do you mean, _the last time you checked_?"

"And this is where the humiliating part comes in," Natasha sighed, wrapping up the remnants of her sandwich. "I hack into Coulson's laptop weekly," she confessed flatly, as if straight-up confessing to murder. "For an agent, he _sucks _at encrypting his shit. The man keeps his own little personal diary on the hard drive. That's how I know that as of 1200 hours, when you were assigned the paperwork, he took off for Aruba. He would've taken May, but she refused."

"What's your point here, Romanoff?" The coleslaw looked unsalvageable, anyways. The plastic was crumpled up and tossed into the center of her red wicker basket. "What does hacking into Coulson's laptop-which you could get arrested for, by the way-have to do with anything?"

"That's the thing," Natasha groaned. "I'm pretty sure Coulson's laptop is secured with the best firewalls around. Better than the military, even. I've been hacking him for three months and he hasn't suspected a thing."

"You hacked the UN and got caught," Hill guessed. Actually, she was a bit surprised, too. Natasha Romanoff hacking a location and not getting away with it? Surely the world had come to an end. "And you're pissed because you actually got _caught_ because they have absolutely shitty security."

"Like I said. I'd rather not talk about that."

"Then where's Coulson, Romanoff?"

* * *

**Coulson**

He leaned back in his wicker chair, crossing his feet in front of him. Ah, vacation. He couldn't even remember the last time taken something of the sort. Definitely more than ten years ago. The azure surf washed against the legs of his chair, and Coulson let out a sigh of content, closing his eyes. He could get used to this.

"Phillip. Coulson."

A voice permeated his earshot, twisting into his visions of tranquillity. It sounded a lot like Hill's, he mused, but that was impossible. Hill was eight hours away by standard airfare. Given that she'd figured out he'd dumped his paperwork on her, that is.

"Phillip Coulson, you are in some deep shit right now." Yup. It was Hill. Coulson opened his eyes and sighed.

"How can I help you, Agent Hill?" Hill's face was present on a video feed a butler was holding up to him. Coulson took the tablet from him, uttering a small thanks, and turned back to the monitor.

"Your paperwork," Hill stated crisply, "I'm going to fucking kill you when you return, Coulson. Actually, better yet, I think I'd rather tell Agent May about your feelings."

His mouth dropped open. Where had she gotten information like that? No one knew, save for his computer's hard drive. "Did you hack my hard drive?"

She smirked. "I have my sources." Coulson had a nagging feeling said 'source' included a certain redheaded spy on SHIELD payroll. _Of course._

He swallowed. "I'm not coming back to do that paperwork, Hill."

"Of course not. That would be asking way too much," Hill answered sweetly, and Coulson sighed in relief. He was off the hook. "But Agent May seems to be free to lend a hand. You and I both know she won't take an order from me. You, on the other hand..."

"Don't bring Melinda into this."

"First names, eh, Coulson?" Hill smirked. This blackmail was especially fun. She'd have to thank Romanoff for the information later. "You two do seem to be awfully close. So I reiterate my point: get May to help me or I tell her."

"Fine." Coulson huffed. He couldn't have his feelings for his partner compromise their relationship. "I'll give it a shot. But don't be surprised if she doesn't say yes."

"You'll probably want to convince her." Hill's voice was purely sadistic with glee. "The consequences may or may not involve spilling the contents of your hard drive." Coulson didn't even bother to respond, just terminated the feed and reached for his cell phone.

"Coulson. Thought you were on a retreat."

* * *

**Clint and Thor**

"Ey! It's the Cavalry!" Clint cheered as May stormed into the prison, prompting several catcalls from other detainees. "What brings you here, Agent May?"

"First of all, don't call me that." May hissed at him, jabbing her ballpoint pen theough the bars. "Second of all, I was having a very nice afternoon when I got called in to deal with you two imbeciles. That's what!" She brandished an inch and a half wide folder at the archer. "This is all of the paperwork I have to fill out to cover your sorry ass!"

"Quite on the contrary, my ass is far from sorry," Clint smirked. "You, of all people, should know that."

May resisted the urge to shoot the man. _Favor to Coulson, favor to Coulson, favor to Coulson... _Never mind. She was STILL going to kick his ass into next week when he got back from Aruba. Maybe she should've gone. God knows she had the vacation time. "What's this about you and Odinson at the zoo?"

_"Friend Barton!" Thor's whisper came in the middle of the night, startling Clint. "Are you awake?"_

_"I am now, Thor," Clint grumbled. "What's up?"_

_"I wish to see the Midgardian animals we rescued last week."_

_"You mean the endangered ones from the Bronx Zoo?" Clint's brow was furrowed in confusion. "In the middle of the night? On sleepover night?"_

_"I developed a connection with the penguins," Thor desponded. "I must go to see them, lest they forget about me and find other friends."_

_"We are not getting a penguin." Clint stated flatly. "Stark's gonna be allergic, Natasha's going to try and use it for target practice, and Steve's going to have a reaction because of its icy habitat."_

_"But I am not asking for a penguin, Friend Barton," Thor replied. "All I am asking is that you aid me in renuiting with their fluffy faces..."_

_"You know what?" Clint asked, suddenly determined. "Let's get you a penguin. Hell, let's mess with the animals. I have an ex-girlfriend who works there. Never quite got back at her."_

* * *

_"Are you sure this is legal, Friend Barton?" Thor whispered as the duo crept into the zoo. " I am fairly sure this accounts for what is seen as 'trespassing'."_

_"Dude. You were the one who wanted to come here first," Clint whispered back, picking a lock. "Let's get in, steal a penguin, and get out. I want sleep, and we'll deal with Stark in the morning." He concentrated on his target, the lock of the penguin exhibit. Tony had recently designed some new arrows for Clint, claiming that they had the ability to open any lock. A silent whoosh went through the air as Clint released his arrow and it hit the lock, releasing the penguins, who immediately began waddling out. "Okay, buddy. Grab one and let's go."_

_But Thor was forlornly looking at the other animals. "They look so lonely! You mean not to say they will remain in captivity forever!" _

_"What do you want me to do? Release them all?" Clint hissed._

_"Could you possibly?"_

_Shrug. Why the hell not?_

_Two hours later, Clint and Thor were riding side by side up Broadway and Seventh on adjacent hippos. They were currently racing to see who was capable causing the least damage trying to make it to Times Square. Thor had already gone through Fifth on a lion, smashing several windows. Thor heartily waved towards a black bear lumbering down Sixth, only to stop when it collapsed suddenly, the result of a well-aimed tranquilizer dart._

_"Stop! Can you not see that you are hurting them?" With a roar, Thor charged down Sixth on his hippo. Sighing, Clint followed him, groaning when he saw the police cars. _

_"Freeze! Dismount the hippo!"_

* * *

"No wonder traffic was a mess this morning," May muttered. "I saw a fucking bear on 36th on my way to Tai Chi."

"In my defense, it's all Thor's fault," Clint defended. "He was the one who wanted the penguin."

"Well, you've got damage reports for every single animal you let loose." May handed him the file. "They're all asking for a certain amount of money. Prepared to sue should you not meet it." A pen was clicked. "Just sign. Fury will take it out of your pay."

"WHAT IS THIS INJUSTICE?" Thor roared. A rattling could be heard as the god punched the wall. "I demand my release!"

May sighed, glaring at the inch and three quarter folder. Thor was going to be worse than Barton.

* * *

**Tony**

"...Stark."

"Agent Hill!" Tony exclaimed brightly. "How you doing?" She didn't take the bait, only glared at him. It was enough to make the smile slip off of his face.

"Stark. Your file is two inches thick. It is the thickest file I've had to deal with all. Day. Don't even TRY to give me pleasantries."

"I was drunk?" He offered feebly.

"Drunk and _stoned, _is more the case!" Pepper exclaimed, storming in, her blonde hair afrizz. "Why, hello, Maria," she said politely, shooting her a smile. "I hope Nat was easy to deal with. You, on the other hand-" She turned to Tony. "The Statue of Liberty? SERIOUSLY?"

"It didn't seem to be the right color!" Tony exclaimed. "So I produced a little chemical reaction that made it much prettier."

"Stark. You PISSED on the damn thing, " Hill seethed. "Damaged a national monument. IN BROAD DAYLIGHT. AT 10 AM IN THE MORNING. Then tried to console everyone by saying it looked better that way. Do you have ANY idea how many people are filing for incidents related to the mental scarring they received?"

"On top of that, I'm getting calls from the National Park Service. They want you to replace the piece you pissed on. In the exact. Copper, weathered to that exact shade. Do you know how HARD that's going to be?" Pepper looked on the verge of tearing her boyfriend's throat out.

"There seems to be that paperwork for that, too." Hill handed over the folder to the assistant, who hefted it. "I'm going to leave this one to you, Miss Potts."

"Damn right." Tony gulped. If anything was scarier than Hill, it was Pepper.

* * *

"I'VE HAD IT UP TO **HERE** WITH YOUR LITTLE TEAM, COULSON!" May's voice echoed through the feed to Coulson. Oh, well. He'd rather take an angry May rather than she figure out his feelings... Then again...

"S'not very high, is it, May?"

* * *

**I know the ending to this one isn't the greatest, but... read and review? Winner gets Thor's penguin :)**


	12. Hologramming Steve

**SURPRISE! I MADE IT A DAY EARLY WOOT WOOT! I wouldn't expect this **_**all **_**the time, though. Especially since NaNoWriMo's coming up, and I'm participating this year (lemme know if you are, so I can add you as a writing buddy! :D). In fact, November might actually result in later posting...let's not jinx it, though. **

**Shoutout to ****rowexz and Evedawalrus for following! **

**I think I'm going to give out my rewards via PM. It's a lot more fun that way :D**

**Very light Clintasha in this. I was originally going to have everyone be single, but...**

* * *

"NO MORE TARTS OF POP?! WHAT MONSTROSITY IS THIS?!" Thor's voice echoed through the hallways of Stark Tower, rattling the walls and causing each Avenger to wince. "I DEMAND THAT YOU GIVE ME A POP OF TART!"

"So that's Point Break's worst fear," Tony snickered. "You'd think it was an all-out battle on Asgard, but noooo..."

"It is entertaining to see that my brother has gone so soft," Loki smirked, watching with restrained mirth.

"You're adopted."

"The sentiment still stands."

It was Halloween night, and Tony, having recently watched _Divergent _with Pepper, was now on a dystopian-society kick, engineering the fear serum simulation as seen in the movie. He'd convinced each Avenger to let him test on them, save for Bruce-there was just no room for a Hulk-size simulation chamber. They'd reluctantly agreed, Natasha with a snort and a 'You cant scare me, Stark.'

There was the unmistakable sound of a hammer being slammed against the ground. "I DEMAND A TART!"

"Think we should bring him out yet?" Steve asked worriedly. "He could break the floor." Frown lines creased his face, the result of a very realistic simulation earlier involving the Howling Commandos and their deaths. They'd had to sedate him in order to shut him up (which usually involved Natasha taking a swing at him. No one else dared take a shot).

SMASH.

"I think he already did." Bruce remarked. "Looks like the rest of the night's gone to waste."

"Damn shame, too," Natasha deadpanned. "I was so looking forward to seeing what I was afraid of."

"Hmm. Bet I could answer that," Clint snorted. "Me dead, Fury dead, that guy, what's-his-face, oh yeah, Chris Evans? If he died, oh, you'd be a wreck..."

"Ex-cuse me!" Tony harrumphed. "Why was I not included in that list?"

"I see no reason for you to be," Loki snarked, prompting a laugh from the archer. "What possibly compares to blonde men or authority figures with an eyepatch?" Natasha just glared at him, then swung at Clint, which he easily sidestepped.

"Don't make me tell him about that time in Seoul." He visibly paled, hating that she had so much blackmail on him.

Tony brightened. "Do tell, Romanoff. What's got your boyfriend in such a tizzy? An unfortunate incident, perhaps?" Turning to Clint, he asked, "Did she mack on some other guy or something and you punched him out?" He snorted, more to himself than to them. "_That _would have made for an interesting make-up session..."

"THIS IS NOT A TART OF POP!" Thor's roar brought them all back to reality, thankfully saving Natasha from having to strangle the billionaire. Bruce and Steve now sported identical looks of concern on their faces.

"Let's bring him out," Bruce suggested quickly. He pushed at a couple of buttons on the tablet in his hand, and shut down the simulation.

"WHERE ARE MY TARTS OF POP?!" Thor bounded out of the room, hammer aloft. "THEY MUST EXIST! THEY MUST!" He held Moljnir threateningly at each Avenger in turn. "WHICH ONE OF YOU HAS HELD THEM HOSTAGE?"

Smirking, Loki held out a foiled package. "Is this the delicacy you speak of, brother?"

"_Adopted_." Tony coughed. Thor chose to ignore him and glared at Loki, shaking with anger.

"YOU DARE STEAL MY TARTS, BROTHER?!"

"Again," Tony interrupted, "you two aren't from the same biological parents, therefore you two can't be brothers, but actually-"

"Shut up, Stark." Natasha muttered, stabbing a needle into his arm. She quickly emptied the contents into his system, planting a foot into his backside and sending him into the simulation room. "Bruce, start it up. JARVIS, do us a favor and start recording. I have a feeling this one's going to go for the ages." Tony's voice suddenly burst forth from the room.

"What do you mean I can't have a drink? JARVIS! Convince them I need a drink! JARVIS? JARVIS?! _JARVIS?!_"

* * *

"Didn't know you had an intolerance for sobriety, Stark," Clint snickered as they let out a shaking Tony. "I thought that was only Tasha."

"I was in the woods. Alone. Abandoned. Without JARVIS!" Tony emphasized, wrapping his arms around him. "Don't tell me that wouldn't freak you out! I am physically allergic to sobriety!"

"Geez. If we put you and Tasha in Alcoholics Anonymous, I wonder who'd break first," Clint wondered, handing Tony a bottle of beer. He drank it down greedily, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve with a smack of his lips.

"Ahh. Alcohol." Turning to Natasha, he taunted, "Bet you couldn't hold out, Natashalie."

"Please. I've been experimented on more times than you've gotten laid," she snorted. "You don't think I'd know a serum if I was injected with one?" Tony raised an eyebrow at that. The entire room knew that his number had been pretty high.

"She's got a point," Clint added, then frowned. "You've slept with a lot of women, Stark..."

"Siding with her, eh, bird boy?" Tony asked ruefully. "Well, given how she is, I'm not totally surprised..." Clint nonchalantly shrugged. "What are you saying about your relationship?"

"I know what it's like to be controlled."

Tony spat out a mouthful of beer at the connotation. Bruce choked. Steve and Thor, thankfully, didn't comprehend quickly enough. "Point is, she wouldn't last." he stated, cracking open yet another bottle and chugging it down. Steve watched with a hint of concern on his face-Tony had consumed the large bottle of whiskey an hour ago, and with the beer on top of this?

"Bet I'd last longer than you," Natasha taunted, allowing a small note of menace to creep into her voice. A glimmer of challenge shone in her eyes, complete with the cocked eyebrow. "Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Stark?"

"Be all too happy to." Tony retrieved a syringe from a chest next to the hallway wall, cracking the lid open and bringing out the correct serum. "Since it _is _alcoholism we're talking about, you can have _my _serum." Natasha held out an expectant hand towards Tony, who grudgingly placed it into her palm. The amber liquid was injected into her arm seamlessly, and she rolled her shoulders once to dispel of the slight sting.

"Alright. Clint, start the timer."

"Master Stark lasted in his simulation for five minutes, Miss Romanoff," JARVIS addressed her. "You should be able to hold out for at least that long to beat him."

"Sounds cool, J." She swung into the room via the doorframe, allowing the door to slam shut behind her. There was complete silence, except for the subtle _beep _of Clint's stopwatch.

"Five minutes?!" Tony sputtered. "No way I was in there for _five _minutes! It had to be at least ten! Fifteen, tops, but certainly not FIVE!" Thor guffawed.

"It seems you are not as brave as you might think, Friend Stark." he answered honestly. "I myself have a time of nine minutes, having had to withstand the cruelty of a world without the Tarts of Pop."

"Yes, because it is quite the fear, going without the scrumptious breakfast treat," Loki drawled. "Yet dear old Captain America managed to do without them during his tenure in the ice."

"Pop Tarts weren't invented before I went into the ice, Loki." Steve scowled. "I only learned about them after I came out."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S NO TSARSKAYA?!" Natasha's enraged tones erupted from the room, causing Tony to start laughing hysterically. Clint's eyebrows rose at the mention of the famed Russian vodka-his girlfriend had been so known for craving it that fans constantly sent bottles, leading to a large stash in Stark's storage. JARVIS had yet to test them all for poison. What was even more surprising was that Natasha _believed _there hadn't been vodka-surely she knew about the large stash, and logical reasoning would lead to the assumption that the whole thing was faked. "THERE HAD BETTER BE SOME GODDAMN TSARSKAYA!"

Or, at least, that's what he hoped. He had a good hundred bucks riding on the fact that Natasha lasted for more than ten minutes.

"Isn't there a giant stash in storage-?" Bruce was cut off by a hissing Tony.

"She doesn't know about it yet."

Well, shit. Clint's odds in the pool were definitely reduced. Looks like the odds were in Loki's favor. He'd bet that the Russian would start shooting at the walls in less than five minutes.

"We're at the five minute mark," Bruce announced, glancing at the archer's stopwatch. "She's got five minutes before she beats Tony. Ye of little faith, Steve-you're out."

"I've seen Natasha's tendencies towards homicidal behavior when she's sober," the super soldier shrugged. "Withholding her drink of choice is significantly worse."

"THERE _HAS _TO BE SOME IN THE BACK ROOM. IT'S A FAMED RUSSIAN VODKA, FOR GOD'S SAKE. DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM?!" At the last part, even Bruce couldn't take it anymore. The entire team, including Loki, was besides themselves with laughter.

"I'd expect that from Tony," Clint gasped in between laughs, "but never from Tasha." He sincerely hoped JARVIS was recording-this was excellent blackmail the next time he wanted to go on a date.

"Isn't your girlfriend supposed to be Little Miss Modest?" Tony choked, eyes alight with mirth at the fact that Natasha had actually tried to use her position to get something. "I thought she wasn't too happy at being the Black Widow."

"She's not," Clint replied. "She _hates _having to bring up her position. She must be _really _desperate."

"Please," Natasha's pleading voice emanated from the metal confines of the room. "Just a drop. A drop is all I need."

"I am quite surprised she has not discharged her weapon yet," Thor mused. Loki quietly began counting down.

"I think it's going to happen in three...two...one..." On instinct, every Avenger ducked as several prominent bullets slammed against the walls, creating formidable dents. Realizing there was no danger, they slowly straightened up, fear showing on Steve's face.

"The pool's for when she fired, right?" Tony asked weakly. "'Cause I think Reindeer Games won."

"So not fair!" Clint complained. "He could have invaded her mind for all we know!" When everyone turned to look at him, he gave them a shocked look. "_Eragon_? No one? No?" They all shook their heads. "You all _seriously _need to sit down and read some time."

"I play fair," Loki scoffed. "I'm offended you even decided to _suggest _that I may have cheated in this contest." The archer said nothing, only placed a fifty into the trickster's outstretched palm. Tony followed suit, dropping in a hundred. Steve grudgingly added a ten, and Bruce a five. Thor gave Loki a long look before dropping in a blueberry Pop-Tart. He looked at it in disbelief. "This isn't mortal currency, Thor!"

"Just leave it, Loki," Bruce sighed. "We've tried teaching him about paper money. He still insists on bartering with Pop-Tarts."

"It works quite well," Steve added. "I get a lot done by paying Thor in Pop-Tarts." Suddenly, Clint's ears perked up. There was the faint sound of sobbing.

"Guys, shush," he said, halting Loki and Thor's squabbling. "Do you hear that?" The occasional gasp of breath could be heard, along with various choking sounds.

"Oh my God," Tony gasped. "Is that Natashalie-" He shook his head. "She can't be. It's impossible."

"The impenetrable Black Widow is actually _crying_," Loki declared in shock. "The world is coming to an end."

"It's the apocalypse!" Thor announced quite loudly, breaking the joke. Tony and Loki shushed him, wanting to savor this moment. After all, no one had seen Natasha cry since-actually, _no one _had seen Natasha cry, save for Clint. And even he refused to reveal the sources of her distress then, should Tony try to replicate the circumstances.

"Someone...please..." Natasha's jagged voice pulled at their consciences once again, but the normally sympathetic Bruce remained stoic. Not a hand twitched towards the tablet, each member raptly listening to the assassin plead for alcohol.

"I swear to God, Stark, let me out or I will stab you where it's important."

Tony dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

* * *

The hallways of the tower were filled with an absolute quiet, save for the humming of the radiator. Steve tiptoed through the living quarters, making his way to the kitchen for a glass of milk. He hadn't been able to sleep-blame the nightmares again-so what better way to ease his insomnia than a glass of warm milk?

Moonlight filtered through the common room's large picture window, illuminating the couch, coffee table, and flat-screen TV. Steve turned towards the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets for his signature mug. The red, white and blue ceramic was plunked onto the table, the refrigerator opened, a shaft of light spilling onto the kitchen island. Steve's back was turned to the hallway, so when he turned back around , the sight that greeted him was none too pretty.

"_You._" he hissed, almost dropping the jug of milk. "I thought you were dead."

The menacing face of Johann Schmidt leered back up at Steve, lips curled up in a gruesome smile. "I was never _dead_, my dear Captain. And now I've come to finish what I've started." Steve considered throwing the jug of milk in his hand at the man, but rejected the thought. If the man was who he really said he was, then there really was no point. Damn not having his shield. Should he call for backup...? Tony was most likely sleeping off the hangover he'd acquired through the alcohol he'd consumed throughout the night. Thor slept like the dead, that being one of the only traits he and Loki shared. Bruce was most likely passed out in the lab, and putting the Hulk in proximity of Red Skull would _not _be beneficial towards the Tower. While he doubted Clint and Natasha would be at the ready within half a minute, the two were currently ensconced in...activities Steve didn't want to think about. Slowly but surely, he began to back away from the image, tightly clutching the jug in his hands.

"Steve? Is that you?"

This time, Steve was _sure_ he was dreaming. As he whirled around, the image of Peggy Carter stood at him, radiating in the moonlight. "Peggy?"

"Ah, Agent Carter," Schmidt hissed, grinning at Peggy. "So nice to meet the woman who's finally captured the heart of dear old Steve Rogers."

"I would hardly confirm our relationship," she scoffed, and Steve's heart seemed to splinter into several pieces. She didn't love him? After all this time...Was this the product of one of Tony's serums? _It couldn't be,_ he reasoned. _He hadn't taken a needle to the arm. Unless Tony had somehow stabbed him in his sleep..._ All the same, Steve pinched himself with more force than necessary. Nope. Nothing. This was real.

"But how he _pined _for you," Schmidt taunted, while Peggy's lips tightened into a taut line. "How _constantly _he spoke of you, remembering your name when no one else was around, grieving for you in his private moments, absolutely refusing to move on to any other woman, especially with the absolutely _delectable _Agent Romanoff in his midst constantly..."

"Natasha. Is. With Clint," Steve affirmed through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the sound of his hopes and dreams shattering into a million pieces. "I would not, were she single or not, hold any intentions towards her. I wish them both the best."

"I don't understand why he continues to pine, really," Peggy continued dismissively, not even batting an eyelash despite Steve's seemingly obvious signs of betrayal. "He deludes himself with the possibility of a relationship. Him, destined for a future with _me_? Hah!" At this, Steve dropped the jug, falling to his knees.

"Don't do this, Peggy. Please. Please, just don't do this to me..." Steve's joints were pulling apart at the seams, but he pulled himself into the fetal position as Schmidt advanced towards him, a knife in his hand. This was truly the end of his life, he reasoned. He wasn't going to die of old age, or in battle. No, he was going to die at the hands of an old enemy, forsaken by the one true love of his life.

"And so ends the great Captain America," he said softly, drawing the blade. "Such a pity that he dies alone, with no one to care for him, no one to see his last breaths..." The realization paralyzed Steve's ability to breathe, stopping his heart as black spots swam around his vision. _Goodbye, world..._

* * *

"Steve? Steve! STEVE!"

He jolted awake as Tony waved a block of smelling salts in his face. The Avengers were scattered around the kitchen and common room. Instead of moonlight, the bright, hard sunlight filtered into the room, a sign that November had truly begun.

"What happened to you?" Tony demanded, as Steve rubbed his eyes, attempting to focus. Instantly, all of the events of the night before came rushing back: Schmidt, Peggy, the heartbreak that had been so painful he'd blacked out.

"Peggy...she said she didn't...love me..." Another painful memory made itself present. "Schmidt...he hit on Natasha..." At that, the Black Widow was motionless, but otherwise showing no expression on her usually stoic face.

Clint was examining the dropped jug of milk, frowning as he looked back and forth between the jug and his unfilled bowl of cereal.

"Damn it," he whined. "That was our last jug of milk." He turned to Natasha. "Tasha, d'you think you could run out and get more?"

"Do it yourself, loser." She rolled her eyes and turned to Steve. "Steve, what do you mean 'Schmidt hit on me'?"

"He said...why I hadn't moved on from...Peggy when you were always...around...obviously...you and Clint..." Steve still struggled for breath; Tony and Bruce helped him into a sitting position. Thor was at the island, obliviously munching on yet another Pop-Tart. Loki was nowhere to be seen, but it was assumed he was sleeping in, as the trickster liked to do.

"You saw Peggy, Steve?" Bruce asked concernedly. "You know as well as I do that they're both dead, this could mean serious PTSD as well as neural damage..."

"I wasn't hallucinating, Bruce," Steve forced out. "I saw them. They were there. Sure as I wear the colors of the American flag."

"Ah." Tony smirked. "That just means that they worked. Finally, someone they worked on. I tried them on Hill last week and she didn't bat an eyelash."

"What worked, Tony?" Bruce growled. "_What worked_?"

"Oh, I developed a new...hologramming program," Tony admitted sheepishly. "The result was to have seriously realistic images that walked, talked, and were pretty much everything except for physically present..."

He hadn't been hallucinating, Steve realized. He'd been tricked. By Tony.

Again.

Humiliation washed over him as he growled, "I could've DIED!"

"At least they worked?"

* * *

"Can't even catch a break on Halloween, can I?" Coulson grumbled as he stormed into the Triskelion, having been handed a manila folder at his apartment an hour ago. "No, Tony has to go and screw things up _again_...and this time, pissing off _Captain America,_ of all people..."

No one commented on how the man was dressed in a form-fitting red, white and blue suit, complete with face mask and shield.

* * *

**Read and review! And, as always, if you like what you read, follow the story! :) Happy Halloween! Best review gets the stash of Tsarskya in Stark's storage...of course, and an angry Nat after you... xD**


	13. BONUS: Five Nights At Freddie's

**And so it begins again...how is everyone?! It's been a weird week of Twitter conspiracy theories. xD I won't go into them.**

**Thanks to RukoYukine for collaborating with me on this! :)**

**Shoutout to ****GetLoki, Rin596, LenaAzarova, and Agent L. Frost for following! :)**

**SINGLENESS WOOOOOOOOO xD I think I'm bringing the Romanogers back next chapter. (I sorely need to write some Clintasha, haha)**

* * *

Bruce sighed as he glanced at the makeshift circle of laptops, all displaying the same logo: "Five Nights At Freddie's". By the macabre background, he could guess that it was most likely video game night. Which meant that Tony would make them all play a creepy video game. Which meant that Bruce had been excluded..._again. _It's not that he didn't mind. On the contrary, scary things weren't on his list of favorites...or the Other Guy's. It was just that each time, the team (read: Tony) screwed up and blamed the game.

He wondered what would happen this time.

* * *

"Phil! Glad you could make it!" Tony called, clappng the agent on the shoulder. "Seems like we never see you these days."

"Well, you'd probably see me more if I didn't have to do all of your paperwork," Coulson muttered through gritted teeth, holding up a smile. "So what are we doing today, Stark?"

"FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDIE'S?" Clint exclaimed upon seeing the screen. "Do you know how bad this could get?!"

"No. Is it bad?" Tony asked eagerly.

"Let's just say _I _had nightmares," Clint muttered. At that, the billionaire brightened considerably. Steve scared was nothing new. But _Hawkeye_? Something scared _Hawkeye_? This he had to see. Hopefully on camera, so that he could watch it over and over.

"Please," Natasha snorted, stalking in. She looked formidable for such a casual night, in caramel leather boots, jeans and a black jacket. An olive beanie topped her head, somehow not clashing with her bright red hair. "Clint has nightmares at Mario Kart. I wouldn't take him too seriously."

"Any reason we're so dressed up, Tasha?" Clint smirked. She shot him a glare, daring him to answer. He didn't seem to value his life so much at that moment, for he added, "Like a daaaaaaaate?"

"It's for me, obviously," Tony swaggered, taking an imaginary bow. "Natashalie's finally come to her senses and realized that I'm the perfect one for her." Without looking, she smacked him over the head.

"Don't let Pepper hear you say that." She turned to Clint and answered, "May and I are heading out to the bar later. She's trying to teach me how not to beat up anyone in public."

"Ah, May," Coulson shook his head. "I can say I'm not surprised." He rubbed at his arm, and it was only then that Natasha noticed a bruise on his wrist.

"You need to get faster at self-defense. With all due respect."

"No, May just needs to be slower." he retorted. "Damn woman swept me out in less than a second."

"Whatever you say to make you sleep at night," Clint smirked, clearly enjoying the connotations Coulson's most recent statement had wrought. "Because we all know what's _really _going on...Didn't know you did those sort of things, Phil,"

Coulson just shot him a glare.

"I made it, I made it..." Steve strode in, looking harried. "Just had to see Thor off to New Mexico...I've told him a dozen times that he have Jane just move in, but he insists on not rushing her..." Upon seeing Natasha, he started. "Try not to beat anyone up this time, okay? This'll make the third time May and I have had to bail you out."

Tony's jaw dropped open. "Laptop-video game-" was all he managed to squeak out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Last one to die doesn't have to foot groceries for the next four months."

"It's on, bitches," Clint vowed. He'd had to pay for the last month of groceries after losing the last bet-he swore that Tony had been demanding organics for the last month just because. It sure wasn't because he'd wanted to change for Pepper, oh no... "I swear to God, you all are going down. I am _not _paying for another month of locally grown kale. Shit's expensive."

"It was for Pepper!" Tony defended. The unsaid accusation of 'bullshit' hung in the room, no one needing to vocalize it. "It was!"

"Let's just get this over with," Coulson said resignedly, reaching for a laptop and a set of headphones. "The sooner I can get this over with, the better." Each Avenger did the same, absent-mindedly picking a seat on the couch. Tony let out a squawk as Natasha plopped onto him, almost squashing his computer. "That's the new edition, Natashalie!"

"Whoops," she smirked, not sounding apologetic in the least. She moved a few feet over, this time landing on an unoccupied cushion. Silence filled the room as each of them absorbed the introduction through their headphones.

The competition was on.

* * *

**Tony**

_Whoever was running security for this place was really doing a shitty job_, he mused as he frowned at his screen. _They really ought to have invested in Stark Industries. _He would've done so much better than these grainy black-and-white cameras. Installed cameras that were in color, first of all. Secondly, they'd have a _much _longer battery life than the crappy batteries he was dealing with right now. How was anyone supposed to last eight to twelve hours on these? Especially with all of the checking he was having to do, opening doors left and right. He'd bet anything that the cameras were the biggest battery drainer. Speaking of which, the cameras in the tower really needed an upgrade, they were really taking up a decent amount of power, and just when Thor allowed Tony to experiment on his hammer-

"AAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!" Lost in his own thoughts, Tony had clicked on a door, only to suddenly be met with a wide-eyed robot, smiling a creepy grimace as lightning illuminated his silhouette. The night gave the figure an eerie green color, only heightening Tony's fear. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

"That, Stark, would be the characters of Freddie's," Natasha smirked, having met her own character a few minutes ago. "Means you're about to die soon. Scared?"

"Of course not!" Tony insisted, trying to slow his racing heartbeat. "I've seen worse. What makes you think that was actually _scary _to me?" He focused back on his monitor, scanning the camera feeds once again. With a sinking heart, he noticed that his battery percentage was running low. Okay, so maybe he was a _tiny _bit scared. But anyone that considered admitting something of that caliber to _Natasha Romanoff_ was writing their own obituary. "Not scary in the least," he scoffed. "Wasn't scared at all."

"The bullshit's so obvious I can smell it from over here," Clint called from the other end of the couch, not even pausing in his game."Might want to clean yourself up, Stark."

"Not scared," Tony called back to him determinedly. "Bet you you'll be pissing your pants within the next five minutes."

Clint flipped him the bird. The billionaire just snickered at the irony.

* * *

**Natasha**

The bells tolled through her headphones, signaling that she'd made it through yet another night at the damned restaurant. The place really did have crappy security. A few well-placed kicks and she would've made her way out easily. Why cower in the room? It was just a bunch of stupid robots. Not like they'd been equipped with commands to kill. Most likely they wouldn't put up any fight. She clicked around the room, hoping for a weapon of some sort that would help aid her escape. No knife, no rope, no gun...Natasha was well-versed in the art of killing people with just about any object imaginable, but she was pretty sure that she wasn't able to kill someone with paper. Or a hole puncher. Well, a person, maybe, but robots? Not so much.

Maybe there would be a gun looking around the various corners of the room? She panned through the cameras, not caring that she was deliberately wasting her battery. Nope. No gun here. Or here. Nor here. Was there a gun _anywhere _in this damn game? She swore the developers built this game with the intention of wanting the player to die.

"Do I get a gun?" she muttered to herself, her fingers clicking more and more rapidly as she impatiently searched through the cameras. "Why don't I get a gun?"

"How does it feel, Tash?" Clint taunted, having made it through the second night himself. "Not having a weapon to get out with?"

"You know that I could get out if I wanted to," she retorted, still switching through her cameras. As she was about to make her third round, the bells tolled. Another night through. And she _still _didn't get a gun. She'd made it through four nights. Surely she deserved _something_ after having gone through such hell.

"Someone gimme a gun," she groaned, again rapidly flipping through her cameras. "Where the hell is my gun? I need a goddamn gun!" A face showed up in her left doorframe, and she immediately shut the door on it, grimly catching the battery percentage in her peripheral. The way it was going, she'd be dead within a minute. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY GUN?!" Suddenly, a robot popped up in the screen as a result of her leaving the door open. As a reflex reaction, her gun was automatically out of her holster and a bullet released at the computer, spiderweb cracks appearing across the screen as it went black.

The gaming abruptly stopped as each Avenger turned to look at her, all with different expressions on their faces. Clint's was pure amusement, having expected something of the sort to happen. So confident, in fact, that he'd previously made a bet with Bruce about the whole ordeal. The scientist now owed him ten bucks. Tony's was more shock than anything, most likely at the fact that Natasha had just shot his brand-new computer. His mouth hung open, unable to form any coherent words. Steve had concern on his face, bless the man, and looked fit to say something, but decided against it and kept his mouth shut. Coulson, in the ultimate fit of wisdom, didn't even look up from his screen. Smart.

She stood up and brushed the remains of the laptop off of her jeans, tucking the headphones into her pocket. "If no one has any further objections, I'll be off to the bar." She retucked her gun into her holster and was ready to exit the room when Steve's parting words froze her, his eyes still trained on the screen.

"Remember, Nat. Don't get arrested this time."

As she exited, she vaguely heard Tony inquire, "How many times has this happened?"

* * *

**Clint**

Ugh. There were so many faults in this game he didn't even know where to start. For one, where was he going to escape from should the robots get past the door and decide to attack him? Did he have any weapons besides his flashlight and remote to close the door? He shook his head. Had he been in that situation, he would have had so much more than his flashlight. Preferably a quiver of arrows. And a knife or two. Maybe Nat as backup-after she would finish chewing his ass out for landing the two of them into the situation.

Warily, he checked his camera feed for any sign of the robots. One could never be too cautious about their surroundings. He would never admit it, but the game was starting to wear down on his reflexes. Too many times during the third night alone, he'd caught a glimpse of the robots in his door and had hurriedly shut it, breathing a sigh in relief as he'd once again removed himself from the list of those having to buy groceries for the next four months. He'd do anything to have to avoid going out. Absolutely anything. He'd bribe the winner if he had to. Which would be tough if the winner was Tony, but...

"AAAAAAGHHHHH!" Tony's scream alerted the entire group to his demise; on the other hand, his falling off of the couch was a pretty good indicator, too. The _smack _of Tony hitting his forehead on the floor made Clint snicker. When it was his turn to buy groceries, he was most definitely going to have a nice craving for foie gras during that time, health problems be damned. Maybe some locally grown okra while he was at it. He'd never really gotten to live out the gumbo phase he'd had while on that mission in New Orleans back in January.

"Night four," he muttered determinedly as he closed his doors-just a precaution. He'd barely lived through the last night, scraping by with an eight percent battery. He flipped through his cameras, frowning as he didn't find a single robot in any of them. Were they all moving away whenever he flipped to a certain camera? Was that a shadow at the end of the hallway? Clint leaned closer to his screen, intent on examining the shady figure.

_MAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHH._ A robot popped up into his face, a little closer than he would've liked to be, and Clint reared back in fright, clutching his chest. No one had scared him like that in years. Not since-never mind. He mentally revised the statement. He hadn't been scared like that in _days_. Not since Tony had presented him with the bill for all that goddamned kale. Furtively glancing around the room, Clint noted in satisfaction that neither Steve nor Coulson had noticed his small panic attack. Steve was confusedly poking at the controls; he idly wondered how the super-soldier had made it this far. Coulson was just staring at the screen. Most likely, he was trying to death glare a robot.

"Death glaring it doesn't work, dude," Clint snickered at him, returning to his own office screen. "It's a computer program, not May." Even Steve had to laugh at that: it was well known that Coulson and May had epic staredowns, sometimes resulting in one of them having to be sedated just so that they would get some sleep. Or at least close their eyes. The Avengers had heard the stories onboard the bus, them usually ending with Coulson in the medical bay because May had punched him out.

"Shit. Ten percent." Hurriedly, Clint opened his doors, with a growing sinking feeling that tonight was the night he was going to die. He shouldn't have kept his doors closed so long. Now, he was relying on pure luck that no robots would show up. Coupled with the fact that he hadn't seen any on his last camera sweep, and some nervousness was in order. "I'm going to die tonight, aren't I?"

"I sure hope you'd better," Coulson muttered. "My paycheck's small enough as it is."

Suddenly, the lights went dark, flickering out with a small _buzz_. The sinking feeling in Clint's stomach grew. _Oh no, please don't let me die, please don't let me die, I really don't want to be funding kale and Pop-Tarts for the next months, no matter how much Thor wants the damn things, PLEASE don't let me die-_

"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Clint jumped about a foot in the air at the scream, instinctively checking himself for bodily injury, then turning for Natasha, quickly realizing she wasn't there. _Then who screamed? _He looked up from his screen to see Coulson cowering on the couch, scrambling away from his laptop. _Ah._ "FUCKING. ROBOTS."

"Guess it's just you and me, Barton," Steve muttered to him as his rapidly clicked his touchpad. "I don't know about you, but I'm at about thirty percent battery." Clint's competitive spirit revved back up. No way he was going to let someone as inexperienced as _Steve _beat him at video games. Especially crappy video games that had no sense of security. A shadow flickered at the wall across from him, and he nervously eyed it. Another danced across the adjacent wall, disappearing as quickly as it had occurred. His eyes twitched nervously. Were there intruders in the tower? Had they gotten past security? Was he just imagining things? Nah. He probably was. Damn game was making his jumpy. This wasn't good for his reputation.

_Wooooooooo..._

Clint jumped again, certain that the sound had emanated from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He looked around the room to see if any of the other men had caught the sound. Steve hadn't noticed. Coulson was still in the fetal position; Tony the same, only on the floor. Neither of them looked sane enough to have picked up on a sound. He shook his head. He really needed to get himself checked by Bruce when this was all over.

"MAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!" The scream came completely unexpectedly in Clint's headphones, and he threw the things as far as he could without breaking them away from the laptop. Static flashed across his screen, alternating with the visage of a robot dog, its wide, red eyes and jaw swinging open at Clint. Several other robots surrounded the one, bringing on intense flashbacks of being surrounded by Chitauri.

"Clint! Clint! CLINT!"

He snapped out of it to Steve slapping him in the face, the creepy music still playing in his headphones. Clint weakly sat up, ripping his headphones out of his ears.

"Dude...what happened...?"

"You were muttering something about the Chitauri and their blue eyes," Steve answered, a look of concern etched onto his face. "Then something about Natasha? I'm going to guess that's not related to the Chitauri, though."

Clint was so mortified he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed about that last part. "I'm not with Nat. It was probably something about retribution." His cheeks heated up as he realized what his freak-out meant. "Dammit. I'm part of the grocery list, aren't I?" He flopped back onto the ground in defeat. "I can't take any more kale past this point."

"Just when I was getting used to having Kobe beef," Steve jibed, helping the archer up once more. "Kidding," he added as Clint blanched. "I had it once on Stark's bill." The lights flicked on, and the four men turned to see Bruce, arms crossed, with a stern look on his face.

"Now, what did I tell you guys about playing video games in the dark?" Tony and Clint hung their heads in shame. Steve just sighed. "Steve, I thought you knew better than this." He caught sight of Coulson, looking thoroughly ashamed. "Agent Coulson, I admit I'm quite surprised to see you here."

"I'm surprised I am, too."

"Now." Bruce clapped his hands together. "Who wants pizza? I heard of this place on 7th called Freddie's. You guys want in?"

The archer went pale.

* * *

"Clint, you look really pale," Bruce commented casually as the four of them entered the pizza place. Coulson had begged off on the trip, insisting that he'd needed to be on standby should Natasha and May get into some sort of altercation.

"You never know with those two," he shrugged as he slowly backed out of the tower. "Have fun, you three."

"Me? Pale?" Clint asked, immediately feeling his face. "I could never look pale! I'm too tan!" Having determined he was sufficiently 'un-pale', he swung his arms back to his sides. "If you wanted to see someone pale, try Steve."

"Was that a frozen joke, Barton?" Steve asked uninterestedly, surveying the place. "Looks deserted, Bruce."

"I'm pretty sure I have the right place," Bruce answered distractedly. "Let me go look outside to see if I've got the correct address." With that, he strode out of the parlor, leaving Tony, Steve and Clint behind.

"Nice screams you had back there, Birdbrain," Tony snickered, speaking for the first time since the men had left the tower. "You sure you weren't doing something else besides playing the game?"

"I'm pretty sure yours were louder, Stark," Clint retorted, smirking. "Hope you like paying for foie gras. Stuff's pretty good-or at least I've heard."

Tony was about to bite back a response when the lights in the room went out, the windows and doors automatically barring themselves, leaving the three Avengers in the dark. Tony involuntarily jumped into Clint's arms, which the archer could barely restrain himself from shaking like a leaf. He did, however, shoot Tony a nasty look.

"Don't think this means anything, Stark."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Legolas."

_Whiirrrrrrr..._

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Clint and Tony echoed simultaneously, giving each other identical horrified looks. Steve just turned to them, expertly nonchalant. Figured he would be the one to keep calm-he had won the game, after all.

"I swear to you both, when it's your month to buy groceries, I'm demanding we have black truffles at least once a week," Steve threatened, picking Tony out of Clint's arms with a groan. "It's probably just nothing."

"THEN WHAT'S THAT?!" Tony shouted, pointing a wobbly finger at a shadow advancing towards them. He brought out his phone's flashlight and shined it into the corner. "AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH! IT'S ALIIIIIIVVEEEEEEEE!"

The three of them instinctively fell into a defensive position, leaning against each other for support. A small horde of robots came towards them, their joints creaking loudly with a lack of oil. Similar as to the game, their eyes were wide and bloodshot, jaws hung wide open. Various moans emanated from them as they staggered towards the trio, who was frozen with fear.

Each of them cursed themselves for not bringing weapons. Then heaved a small sigh of relief; had Natasha been there with them, she would've ousted them all for _not _bringing weapons before proceeding to kick...well, whatever it was' ass without a hair out of place.

"Okay, Barton, you take the left, I'll take the right...Stark...just...umm...actually, just run around and scream." Tony gave Steve a look.

"You're actually serious about this." Steve froze him out with a glare that rivaled Fury's. "Okay. Okay. I'll do it. Just as long as no one hears about this." He took off, weaving around various chairs, squealing, "HEEEEELLLPPP! I'M THE BLACK WIDOW AND I'M SO SCARED! SOMEBODY HELLLPPP MEEEEEEE!" His arms flailed in the air as he delivered his speech, knocking over a few chairs and tables in the process. Both Clint and Steve watched the scene with mild amusement, knowing that they would never see a scene like this again.

"AREN'T YOU TWO SUPPOSED TO BE KICKING ASS?" Tony shrieked at them while dodging more furniture. "I'M NOT IMPERSONATING NATASHALIE FOR NOTHING!" When the duo just raised an eyebrow at him, he added, "I KNOW SHE'S GOING TO KILL ME. NOW JUST KICK SOME ROBOT ASS ALREADY BEFORE SHE SUDDENLY SHOWS UP AND KNOWS I'M MAKING FUN OF HER!" With that, Clint and Steve launched into action, the former rocketing himself at a robot, intending to strike it with one blow.

Only to be thrown back when it retaliated at him, providing an intro for some intense hand-to-hand combat. He battled fiercely with the robot, pulling out every maneuver he had. For some reason, the robot seemed to know his every move, anticipating and counter-attacking with a grace and finesse unknown to a robot. If Clint hadn't known better, he would've sworn the robot had learned from Natasha. Almost.

"THIS ONE KNOWS ME!" he hollered to Steve. "SWITCH!" Immediately, the two switched places, Steve finally knocking out the robot as Clint dispatched the one he had been fighting. This went on for several minutes, Tony screaming his lungs out in imitation of Natasha. One of his more memorable lines was, "I CAN KILL A DIPLOMAT BUT I'M SCARED OF ROBOTSSSSS!"

Finally, the three of them stood over a sea of unconscious robots, Tony with a satisfied expression on his face.

"That wasn't too bad," he croaked. "Not a bad job for the three of us."

"You mean two," Clint quickly corrected. "I'm pretty sure what you just did ended your life." The sounds of wheezing came over a speaker, he and Steve tensing up again, ready to fight at the slightest provocation.

"Did you guys really think that was real?" the voice gasped, laughing. "Oh-my-Thor-Tony-" It took a few minutes for the voice to sink in, Tony's mouth dropping open for the fourth time that night.

"BRUCE?!"

"Oh, man, you guys got punked so badly," Bruce strode into the parlor, still clutching his sides with laughter. "That was absolutely hilarious."

"Whose idea was this?" Tony demanded, planting his hands on his hips a la Natasha. "Yours?"

"As much as I would _love _to take credit for this," the scientist answered, still chortling, "no. This was all Fury's idea. He wanted you guys to develop team bonding and strategies."

"Team strategies, my ass!" Tony exclaimed. "Wait till I get my hands on him-!" He made a motion with his hands, akin to strangling someone.

"Wait-if this was all a prank, who were the robots...?" Steve trailed off, looking utterly confused. One of the robots got up, pulling a costumed head off.

Philip Coulson.

"Philip Coulson, you absolute bastard-!" Clint had run out of words, and resorted to giving Coulson the universal insult. "What have we ever done to you?"

"I lost the pool," Coulson shrugged. "Had a hundred bucks riding on when you and Romanoff would get together."

"How many times did I tell you, we're not-!"

"Apparently not enough," Another robot pulled off their head, revealing a bemused Melinda May. She shook out her dark ponytail, grinning. "It was some _very _nice payback. Had fifty bucks riding on it myself."

"Wait. May..." Clint trailed off, comprehension dawning on his face. "Oh, Stark's so dead."

"Damn right he is," Natasha pulled off her own head in the back of the room, eyebrow raised. She turned to Tony, who had gone white. "'Can kill a diplomat but scared of robots'? Really, Stark?"

"Look, Natashalie," Tony began, putting his hands out in front of him. "I can explain, it was a totally rational action at the time..."

* * *

"Did it work?" were the only words Fury uttered as he met the five Avengers, as well as Coulson and May, at the tower later that night.

"Well, Stark's incapacitated," Bruce reported. "It was an...unseen circumstance."

"I am never impersonating Natashalie again," Tony moaned weakly from Steve's arms. "Ever." At Fury's curious look, Bruce hastened to add,

"Like I said. Unforeseen circumstance."

* * *

**Read and review? All of you who read but don't review...just once? Please? Winner gets the video of Tony screaming and running around impersonating Natasha! (It's pretty good. Even has some sort of a Russian accent.) It would make my day! And if you like what you read, follow it :D**

**See you guys next Saturday! :)**


	14. Replacing Clint's arrows with tampons

**I THINK I DID PHYSICS. I honestly think I did. Not to mention I passed first term with a C. Pretty good, in my opinion. Now I just have to get up to some sort of B by the end of the year...**

**Hope everyone had a good Veterans' Day, or the equivalent is wherever you are! I had to sing for the local veterans, and singing the mashup of armed forces songs was pretty awe-inspiring. :)**

**Shoutout to thinkfuzzy, GateBreaker, moneycat, Sierra Wood, Madi-Taylor16 and winter morning frost for following! :)**

**CLINTASHA, GUYS! WOOOOO! Lol. Fluffy Clintasha, actually. I feel that I have betrayed the Romanogers fandom. :( They'll be back soon. I promise.**

* * *

The fifth agent went flying across the room, hitting the wall with a loud THUD. Puffs of smoke could be seen emanating from its surface as the slowly dwindling line of agents got just a little smaller, a woman actually squeaking as she fled from the room.

Natasha gave the the gaggle of agents a grim smile as she dusted herself off-not that there was any dust on her clothes, anyways. She checked the elaborate French braid she'd put in for herself a couple of hours ago, needing to be in London in five hours. Yup. Five attempts at a solid sparring match and there _still _wasn't a hair out of place. "Anyone else want to try their luck?"

Everyone turned to the agent who had recently been flattened against the wall, who let out a small exclamation of "Worth it!"

"Geez, what's up with Natashalie today?" Tony muttered from the doorway, elbowing Clint. "She's never disabled that many agents in a row before." Clint gave him an incredulous look before Tony added, "SHIELD agents, that is. She usually shows them mercy."

"Mercy isn't in Tasha's dictionary," Clint joked, watching his girlfriend with concern as another agent dared to risk their life, only to meet the same fate as the previous agent as Natasha quickly took them out. He didn't miss the slight wince she had upon moving, and instantly knew the reason for her rage. "Ah. I see what's going on." No wonder she'd stayed off of the chocolate for the last few days. He should've seen it himself, but he'd recently returned from a mission in Sydney and was still settling in.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, entering the room. Upon seeing the pile of injured agents and Natasha's rage, he nodded sagely to Clint. "It's that time again, isn't it?" Clint hummed his agreement. "She backed away from the ice cream, too."

"Do you two maybe want to do me a favor and let me in the loop?" Tony demanded from the two blond men, crossing his arms with a huff. "I mean, I _do _let you three live in this tower, free of charge..."

"I'm surprised you didn't get it first, actually," Clint smirked, wincing as Natasha disposed of yet another agent. "You live with a woman. Surely this shouldn't be too hard." Tony racked his brain to think of _anything _that Natasha and Pepper would have in common. Sure, they both loved to annoy the hell out of him, and were the only women to put up with his shit, but other than that...

"I'm coming up with nothing."

"You're an idiot, Stark," Clint acknowledged, he and Steve moving aside as the remaining agents filed out of the room in defeat. "I still wonder why Pepper puts up with you." Checking to make sure that Natasha wasn't within earshot, he leaned in confidentially. "It's that time of the month." Tony's eyes widened in recognition as he processed that bit of information. _The Black Widow had periods?_

"Didn't the Red Room do something about that?" he asked quietly. Clint and Steve shrugged; they knew she wasn't allowed to have _children_, but periods? No one could tell.

"Maybe she's just PMSing," Steve suggested cautiously. "I mean, you can do that without having your actual period..." Apparently, he wasn't cautious enough, because Natasha shot one of her famous glares towards the super soldier, her green eyes flashing. He got the hint and ran from the room.

Tony chuckled to himself. So. Natashalie in a pissy mood, eh? He could have _so _much fun with this...

"Whatever you're planning, Stark, I wouldn't do it," Clint warned. "Her revenge is ten times worse when she's like this. You might not walk out of this one."

"Who says I was going to do anything?" Tony suggested, raising an eyebrow as he too left the room. The archer and the spy were the only two left. A small grimace of pain left her lips as she hobbled slightly towards him, collapsing into his arms.

"That bad, huh?" he murmured into her hair. She only nodded, clutching him tightly as another round of pain doubled her over. "And you've got to be in London in five hours?" Another nod, this time weaker. "Let's get you back to your room," he announced, hoisting her up into his arms and starting towards the elevator. "JARVIS, take her up to my floor," he called to the AI, stepping in, and the doors slid shut with a whisper, automatically beginning their descent.

"Don't...see..." were the only words Natasha managed to squeeze out, letting out an almost-sob as she was once again wracked by pain.

"Shh, Tasha, don't talk, we're almost there," he assured her, pressing a kiss onto her temple as the doors opened. He laid her onto the caramel leather couch, dashing into the kitchen for his 'oh shit Nat's on her period' emergency kit.

"I feel like shit," she confessed when Clint was back at her side, this time with painkillers and water. She took both gratefully, his blue eyes concernedly watching hers in case of a relapse. "This whole period thing is awful. No wonder May and Hill keep bitching about this every four weeks."

"Remember, you don't have to keep going in for the shots," he assured her, this time handing over a small bottle of vodka to assuage the pain. The alcohol went down easily, and he shook his head at her nonverbal insistence at wanting more. "I've told you a million times that-"

"Clint." Natasha spoke the word in staccato, her voice revealing more emotion that its delivery was meant to. "I want this. You _know _I do." She turned to him then, hugging her knees to her chest. "And I know you want it just as badly as I do, needles and pain be damned. The Red Room took away my chance at having kids," she began, her voice beginning to break. "This is my chance at getting one."

"Tash..." He gathered her into his arms then, a muffled sob escaping her as she finally broke down. _Were all women this emotional on their period? _he wondered. It was almost enough to make him want Natasha to back out of the whole 'give the Black Widow an experimental serum so maybe she can have kids' trial. But the thought of a little redheaded archer strayed across his mind, instantly erasing all doubts.

Natasha's cell phone rang then, and she eased himself out of his arms, albeit with a little discomfort, and picked up the phone. "Romanoff." Any leftover emotion in her voice was now gone, replaced by the weary tone of a battle-hardened spy. _His _spy. "Now? Fine. I'll be there in twenty." She turned to Clint, hanging up the phone with a _snap_. "My timetable's been pushed up," she told him. "I have to meet May at the hangar in twenty."

Clint swallowed the lump in his throat, hating that all of her pain went away so quickly. "Be careful."

She stopped at the door, picking up her bags, turning one last time to give him a wry smile. "You know I always am."

* * *

It was a little after midnight when Natasha returned from London. The mission had gone successfully, the mark being a rookie to the game that was espionage. She'd taken him out within a second, knowing that the opium ring was out for now.

What she hadn't counted on, however, was having experienced another round of cramps on the flight back to New York. It'd been so bad that May had been forced to sedate her, handing her a cup of mint tea to soothe the pain upon her awakening.

"It's like all of the cramps your original serum had withheld are doubling on you now," she'd muttered as Natasha's cramps had blessedly smoothed themselves out, leading the spy to emit an ecstatic groan. "Two leaves of mint. Spoonful of honey. One cup of water," the Asian agent had promised her as she'd departed the plane. "Works every time."

Fitting the key into the door, thermos of mint tea in one hand, she swung it open to be assaulted by a vision of white. Dark as it may be, there was no mistaking the color that covered every single surface of the residence.

"What. The. Fuck." She prodded one of the closest white things on her kitchen wall, frowning as she felt its soft texture. Was that...was that a _tampon_? Natasha flicked on the lights, groaning as she saw that, indeed, the wretched things were the mystery objects covering the wall. Amid the blizzard, there was a bright pink Post-It note stuck to a wall. Gingerly, she picked it off, skittering away from the tampon accompanying it.

_Heard about your little 'problem'_, it read. _Maybe you can just plug it up and it'll all go away..._

Stark. There wasn't anyone else who was even _remotely _capable of pulling off a stunt like this.

Natasha shook her head. She was _way _too tired to deal with this shit. She'd deal with it in the morning. Brushing off only the tampons that were barring her way, she made her way to her bedroom, immediately dropping on her bed and closing her eyes. Sleep claimed her immediately, with the aid of just what exactly she was going to do to Stark as retribution.

* * *

"AAAAAAAAUUUUGHHH!"

Clint's high-pitched scream (he preferred to tell everyone it was manly, but Natasha called bullshit each and every time.) filled their floor, causing her to shoot out of her bed, quickly clutching her stomach as all of the pent-up bits of her period decided to flow downwards at that exact moment. It still didn't stop her from racing down the hall to his room, bursting through the door. He sat up, instantly reacting with his bow, notching a...tampon?

"Clint?" she asked, puzzled. "What are you doing with a...tampon...in your bow?"

"Nat," he sighed, relieved. "Just you." He glanced at his bow and the tampon subsequently attached to it, letting out another yell as he realized what he'd been holding in his hand. "You didn't..._use _this one, did you?" A laugh rose out of her at that, quickly reminding her of the fact that she indeed needed another one.

"Trust me, if I used it, it would be a _whole _other color," she snickered, still grinning at the revolted look on Clint's face. He pinched it within two fingers and dropped it, getting out of bed to look for his arrows.

"They're not anywhere," he muttered. "Where are they, goddammit?"

"Where are what, Clint?"

"My arrows!" the archer exclaimed, turning over a flurry of tampons as he flipped up a pillow. "They've all been replaced...with _these _things." He refused to acknowledge the word 'tampon' out loud.

"Ah." Natasha struggled not to laugh. "Just so you should know, the living room's absolutely _covered _in them." The color drained from Clint's face as he processed what this meant.

"You mean...I have to walk through all of those..."

A cramp bowled over Natasha at this point, causing her to gasp and clutch her stomach. Clint was beside her in an instant, and she waved him off, annoyed. "It's only the first one of the day," she assured him, hobbling towards his door. "I'm going to make a run to the bathroom, and I'll be right back." As soon as she'd made it into the bathroom, she was hunched over the toilet, cursing loudly in Russian as the pain poured over her in waves. _Bloody hell indeed._

"Nat?" Clint frantically knocked on the bathroom door, panic lacing his voice. "Are you alright?"

"Clint," she gasped out, tears watering her eyes, "I need you to go see Steve,"

"Steve?" Even through the haze of pain, there was no mistaking his curiosity. "Why Steve?"

"He's got-" She swore again as the pain doubled itself. "He grows herbs in his apartment in his spare time. I need you to get me as much mint as you can."

Clint bit back the joke about marijuana. Now was not the time. Period or not, his girlfriend was the Black Widow and could still kill him from the other side of the bathroom door. "And then what?"

"Boil water and crush two mint leaves in it. Add a spoonful of honey," she explained, her voice strained. "And then hand it over to me."

"There isn't, by any chance, any blood on the bathroom floor, is there?" He had to ask the question. The janitorial staff would have nightmares if they saw that much blood. Heck, they'd probably think that Clint and Natasha had murdered someone in the bathroom and had left them to clean up the mess. "I'm not going in there if there is."

Natasha wasn't amused. "JUST DO IT, BARTON!"

"Okay, okay, okay..." Clint hurried down the hallway, stopping short at the tampon-covered living room. "Oh, damn." He slowly began to tiptoe across the living room, avoiding the tampons as if they were landmines.

"BARTON!"

He was out of their apartment in a flash.

* * *

"STEVE ROGERS! OPEN UP! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!" Clint pounded on Steve's door with a little more urgency than the situation called for, but this was Natasha, goddammit. He needed to get back to her side as quickly as possible.

Steve wrenched open his door, shield at the ready. "What's going on, Clint?" His normally styled blonde hair looked ruffled, evidence of the fact that some other soul had been in his apartment. He caught Clint staring at his hair, and lowered his weapon. "...and what's got you so in a tizzy that you're concerned about my _hair_?"

"Right." Clint mentally berated himself. "...do you have any mint? And could I possibly have as much of it as I can?"

"I've got mint, yes," Steve, having assessed that there was no immediate threat, opened the door wider to let the archer in. Clint did as such, wringing his hands. "And you can have as much of it was you want...but can I ask why?"

"Nat's bent double over the toilet screaming literal bloody murder," he explained. "And she told me that I have to make some sort of mint concoction. I need the mint as quickly as possible before she starts coming after me with blood dripping out of places I don't need to see."

"Of course, of course," Steve hurried over to his mini greenhouse situated next to his window, swift fingers picking quickly at the herb. "Here," he said, handing over a large bunch to Clint. "It's all I've got for now, but I should be able to get you some more in about an hour." The archer was off like a shot, shouting his thanks.

"What was that about?" Maria Hill emerged from his bedroom, sleepy-eyed. "Barton, up and awake at this hour of the morning? That I would've liked to see."

"Natasha. Period." Steve answered wearily, and she nodded.

"She's going to be bitching for the next couple of days. Hope May gave her the secret remedy."

* * *

"Are you sure you're not reconsidering?" Clint asked Natasha once again, once they were seated at the dining table, having cleared the tampons off of it. She took another sip of her mint concoction, sighing as the cramps receded.

"No way in hell," she answered with relish. "I'm going to do this. I am. No matter what it takes. The only thing I'm questioning right now is how to get back at Stark for this."

"Oh, that." Clint chuckled. "That's going to be a piece of cake." He leaned in conspiratorially. "You know how long Pepper's wanted to play a breakup joke on Tony?"

"You know what would be even better?" Natasha whispered to him, her breath tickling his face. "If she told him she was pregnant."

"After his entire day was wrecked?" A wicked grin curled across his visage. "We'd better get to it, then. Pepper's already up, and Stark's gotta sleep off his hangover."

"I love the way you think."

* * *

"Clint. Nat." Pepper easily greeted the two as they danced into her office, all smiles. Still, there was no missing the small grimace that passed Natasha's face, followed by a quick hand passed across her stomach. "Ah. Have you tried Hill's mint tea method?"

"Agent May gave it to me," Natasha offered gracefully, holding up a mug and downing some of the aforementioned tea. "I'm all good."

"Anyways," Clint refocused the conversation. "How would you like to help us make Tony miserable?"

"Seeing as all of our tampons recently went missing, I wouldn't hesitate to," Pepper answered offhandedly, a smirk forming on her face. Comprehension dawned on Natasha's face. So _that's _where all the tampons had come from. The poor woman hadn't stood a chance.

"Would you mind telling Tony you're pregnant?" she asked the CEO brazenly.

"Well..." Pepper fidgeted, averting her eyes from the couple. The spy sized her up instantly. Lately, she'd been avoiding the champagne, had taken to eating saltines anywhere and everywhere...was that a glow on her face?

"Holy hell," she whispered. "You're pregnant." Clint's mouth dropped open in shock. Damn. He was getting really bad at reading people.

"I don't want to tell him until the time's right," Pepper confessed. "And with all of the stress he's been under lately, that hacker getting into his system and all..." Natasha smirked. She knew it was only Coulson's new protege, Skye. There was no harm in that.

"He's safe," she assured her. "It's only one of Coulson's people." She cleared her throat and looked the other woman straight in the eyes. "So will you do it?"

Pepper sighed. "I suppose so," she answered. "I'll have to tell him sooner or later."

"Thanks, Pepper!" Clint told her excitedly, dragging Natasha out of the room. "We'll tell you what time you need to drop the bombshell later!"

"...you're welcome...?"

* * *

"You need me to do what, you two?" Bruce's incredulous voice echoed off of the lab walls as Clint and Natasha delivered their case to the scientists, arms full with various colors of paint.

"Lend us the new shooter you've been working on so that we can shoot cheese balls at Tony while he runs away from us," she stated, giving Bruce a puppy-dog look. "Please?"

"Please?" Clint's look mimicked hers, but only in a more manly way.

"Fine," Bruce mumbled, gesturing over to where the remodeled gun was. "It's over there."

"YES!" Clint let out a shout as he sprinted over to the gun, hefting it into his hands. "Come on, Tasha, let's go!"

"I'm shooting first!" Natasha announced, following Clint at a slower pace due to the paint in her arms.

"No way!"

"Come on, Barton, I'm on my period! A little slack?"

"Kids," Bruce muttered with a smile on his face as he returned to his work, Clint and Natasha's bickering fading out of sight.

* * *

As usual, Tony's brain was fuzzy with the memories of the night before, evidence that he'd been out drinking the night before. Why had he been drinking? Oh, right, Legolas had been out for the count, Natashalie had been in London, and he'd taken the opportunity to cover their apartment in tampons (hopefully Pepper hadn't yet figured out they were gone), and he'd had a drink, congratulating himself on a job well done. He licked his lips, in need of a drink of water, and stopped when he tasted cheese.

Cheese? He brought a shaky hand to his lips, the bright orange dust rubbing off onto his hand. _I don't remember having cheese balls last night... _He sat up, a pile of the snack rolling off of his bedspread onto the floor.

Tony looked around his room in horror. Cheese balls covered every inch of his room, adding an eerie orange glow to the normally red and gold atmosphere. It was very much like the method in which he'd covered Clintasha's apartment...that was never a good sign. He was willing to bet a good amount of money that the two assassins had gotten back at him for replacing Barton's arrows with tampons.

Suddenly, Tony was yanked by a pulley up into the vent above his room. He blinked a few times to dispel of the darkness. No sooner had he become used to the sight than he heard a man shout,

"MAY THE SEVENTY-FIFTH HUNGER GAMES BEGIN!"

Clint barreled at Tony lying flat on a skateboard, the wheels making loud clacking sounds as the billionaire sat there in shock, still too sleepy to process the turn of events. At the last moment, his hungover brain seemed to process that he was being chased after, and he scrambled to become mobile, crawling down the vent as quickly as he could.

He was suddenly hit in the back of the head with a projectile, not bothering to turn behind him to find out what it was. _Was Katniss actually pegging him with objects now? This really was the Hunger Games. _One of Clint's shots missed, flying way over his head. Tony stopped his escape to examine the object. A...tampon?

Great. This was the assassins' retribution, wasn't it? Clint was still coming towards him, crossbow loaded and at the ready, forcing Tony to resume his flight.

The ground seemed to drop out beneath him, and Tony was flailing as he tumbled from the vent right into the common room-straight into a large vat of yogurt. _Where had they even gotten such a large amount on such a short notice? _He wiped the yogurt out of his eyes, only succeeding on getting more up his nose.

_Snap._

A bright orange cheese ball hit his stomach, the only orange amid his now covered white body. He looked up to see Natasha smirking, holding a paintball gun with a large container of cheese balls strapped to her back.

"There's plenty more where that came from," she smirked. "This is why you never replace Clint's arrows with tampons." She ricocheted another shot off of his head, the cheese ball actually sticking. "Got it?" She slid back the slide, a sign that she was ready to start automatic firing. "You've got until three to run."

He didn't need to be told twice. Tony scrambled out of the vat, running across the room dripping yogurt, occasionally slipping on his own trail. Natasha followed after him screaming war cries, shooting cheese balls as she went. "PEPPPPPPERRRRRRRRR!"

He found her in the lab, worriedly holding her stomach. Tony ran over to her, not caring that he was covered with yogurt. "Pep, help! Clintasha's after me!"

"Tony, I wouldn't trust a pregnant lady against two pissed off assassins, whatever the hell you did..."

"You're Pep, you can do anything-wait, you're _pregnant_?" Tony stopped short of squeezing her. Pepper slowly nodded.

He dropped to the floor.

* * *

"Think we can bring him to yet?" Natasha asked. She, Clint and Pepper were standing over Tony's unconscious (and yogurt-covered) body. A large bucket of ice water was in her arms, complete with blocks and all. "It's been ten minutes."

"Might as well," Clint tipped over the bucket for her, knowing how much she'd wanted to be the one to do it. Tony awoke with a start.

"MEATBALLSCHEESEBALLSGOLFBALLSHUNGERGAMES-" He was cut off with a swift blow to the head, a result of Natasha elbowing Clint violently.

"Way to ruin my fun!"

"Tony? Do you remember anything?" Pepper asked her boyfriend gingerly.

"I remember the cheese balls-and the yogurt-and-oh," Tony went quiet.

"What, Tony? What is it?"

The most sincere smile the three of them had ever seen proceeded to make its way onto Tony's face. "You, Pep. You're having a baby. I'm going to be a daddy."

Clint and Natasha slowly backed out of the room, leaving the two to their intimate moment.

* * *

"I can't wait for that day," Clint admitted to her as they strode down the hallway, a goofy smile on his face. "There's going to be a little redheaded archer running around the halls, playing with Pepperony's kid..."

"Okay, two things." Natasha stopped him. "One, there is _no _way our kid is going to be an archer. Two-did you just call them Pepperony?"

"They call us Clintasha," he shrugged. "Seemed only fitting."

"CLINTASHA?!"

* * *

**Read and review? Please? There's a lot of you out there who I know aren't reviewing, and these prizes are pretty darn cool for the best review. Like this one! I'm giving out the cheeseball paintball gun! For the best review! :D So if that doesn't motivate you, I don't know what will :)**

**Oh, and by the way, the mint-tea-honey thing doesn't ACTUALLY work for the period...it does for a cough, though. Shuts you right up. I don't have anything to recommend for a period except for a LOT of water. **

**See everyone next Saturday! :D**


	15. Braiding Hair While the Men Are Asleep

**HEY EVERYBODY! BE EXCITED! (It may be nine o' clock at night, but the date still applies.) IT'S THE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY! Happy birthday to the AMAZING Scarlett Johansson, who turns 30 today and is pretty much the queen of everything. No lie. ALL HAIL THE BLACK WIDOW :D**

**Shoutout to ItsAKiliThing, venesa, mythnerd, isabelele, LittleMissChatterbox2009, and LightThemUp for following! :D**

**SINGLENESS! Hints at Stucky, though. I'm kind of seeing this ship right now. I don't know what's wrong with me. I have disappointed the Romanogers fandom...**

* * *

"For the last time, Stark, I'm not doing it!" Steve insisted as Tony tried to approach him, mouth half-open. "I'd look like an absolute hobo, for starters, and it poses so many problems while I'm in the field."

"Come on, Gramps, it's all the rage!" Tony protested, gesturing widely. "Plus, who's to say we all wouldn't look good in facial hair?"

Natasha raised both hands in the air from the kitchen island, dropping her fork onto her empty plate. "You, Stark, as a matter of fact, would look like more of a pedophile than you already were." She pulled another full plate towards her, pouring rivulets of maple syrup onto the stack.

Tony scoffed. "I thought we had something, Natashalie. I'm hurt."

"Just because I saved your ass from that five-headed dog last week does _not _constitute a relationship, Stark." She didn't even look up from the stack of pancakes she was wolfing down, having returned from a mission the day before and, to quote, 'was absolutely jonesing for some decent grub'. JARVIS was not amused at her newfound English phrasing. In fact, it seemed to be the only time he'd flat-out ignored Natasha's requests.

"You saved Barton's ass, too, and you two are dating. Doesn't that count for _something?_"

A knife whizzed past his head, and it was only through sheer reflex that Steve didn't lose an eye. "We're not dating. For the last time."

"So. Back to the issue here," Tony turned back to Steve, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "How bad can it get?"

"Not shaving for a month?" Steve demanded incredulously. "Like I said, we'd expose ourselves completely in the field, and half of us would look horrible. I'm not going to any public events sporting a scruffy beard!"

"What if you didn't have to do it alone?"

"What are you talking about, Stark?"

"We'll all do No-Shave November!" Tony exclaimed, delight lighting up his brown eyes. "You, me, Barton, Brucie, Barnes and Point Break! It'll be perfect!" Clint let out a squawk akin to his name, toppling off of his bar stool at the island.

"WHAT?!" Turning to Natasha frantically, he pleaded, "Please don't let them do this, Tasha! This means I have to actually grow a beard! I haven't tried to grow facial hair since I was sixteen!"

But Natasha completely ignored him, turning towards the two men with a pancake stuck onto her fork. "If you can get Barton to grow a beard, I'm totally in support of this entire thing."

"Done deal," Tony smirked, before turning to Clint, who had just managed to climb back onto his stool. "Barton, you do No-Shave November or I let out the feed of you singing in the shower to the general public. _The one of you singing Taylor Swift._" The archer gulped visibly. As much as he hated beards, he was sure he could put it aside for the sake of that video...

"Fine."

"Alright." Natasha shrugged, halfway through her second plate. "Sounds cool."

"Why not have a contest for the event?" Thor inquired, wandering into the kitchen. Upon sitting himself at the island, he stared at the table. "Where are the pancakes I was promised?" The spy slowly looked up from her pancakes, the fluffy food still stuffed into her mouth.

"...oops."

"Thor, I'll make you a double batch if you do No-Shave November," Tony quickly promised, moving towards the island. "All you have to do is not use a razor for a month."

"Sounds quite feasible," Thor promised. "After all, ranking is determined on Asgard by the length of one's facial hair." Everyone turned to look at his lack of beard. "I only lost mine due to...complications I was having with thunder." Their faces transformed into something that of 'Ohhhh. I get it now', and each nodded to themselves, wanting to spare themselves of that particular story.

"Alright, so I've got me, Barton, and Point Break...which brings me back to my point, Capsicle," Tony insisted to Steve, who had tried to sneak into the kitchen and was now cracking eggs into a bowl for Thor's double batch of pancakes. Heaven forbid Tony try to cook. It was almost an unspoken rule among the team that Tony wasn't allowed to cook. "You really should do No-Shave November!"

"Oh. Were we planning on doing that?" Bruce asked, stumbling in. "I was going to ask if any of you three were going to join me...I'm doing it for charity...ten dollars for an inch grown..."

"And now it's for charity!" Tony roared, thumping Steve on the back, causing him to almost miss the pan he was pouring batter into. "Come on, the great Captain America can't say no to _charity!_ That's like shooting a puppy!"

"Fine." Steve plunked the wooden spoon back into the batter bowl, setting it onto the counter. "I'll do it. _But only for charity._"

"Awesome!" Tony cheered, racing out of the kitchen. "Now all I have to do is convince Barnes..." His voice faded down the hall as he scampered down to Bucky's bedroom, banging on the door. "Oy! Buckaroo! We have something to ask you!"

"Five bucks says he's going to get thrown a couple hundred feet in the next five seconds," Clint suggested casually. Steve and Natasha nodded, the former sliding a spatula under the pancake in the pan to flip it over. Sure enough, the loud THUD that could only be Tony's body was heard, and a disheveled Bucky Barnes made his way into the kitchen, eyes squeezed shut in frustration.

"Well, scratch that off the daily to-do list," Bruce muttered, setting some water to boil. "Now all that's left is for Tony to make a bet and for Clint to bet some exorbitant amount of money." Clint glared at him. "It's true! You bet every single time Stark makes up some insane idea!"

"It's for charity," Steve offered as Bucky sent him a questioning look. "Bruce was going to do it alone, but I heard it was for charity, so..."

"Which charity?"

Bruce easily sipped his tea. "Well, I'm donating towards the local Boys and Girls Club, but feel free to donate wherever you want..."

"I'm not awake yet," Bucky snorted, his head hitting the table. "First, coffee. Then we'll talk." Clint immediately slid him his mug, silver with a red star emblazoned on it, filled with straight up black coffee. Bucky sipped it gratefully, letting out a sigh.

"I'll do it." Steve nearly dropped his stack of pancakes in shock. "But only if there's a charity that deals with victims of HYDRA and similar organizations."

Natasha looked down at the table. Clint suddenly perked up. The Black Widow, embarrassed. Clearly, this was news. Steve picked up on the vibe as well, for he turned from the stove to stare at her, not quite comprehending the turn of events. First, Bucky agreeing to not shave for a month? That was like asking Thor to give up Pop-Tarts. (And trust him, had they tried.) And secondly, 'Natasha' and 'embarrassed' never went into the same sentence. Something was up.

"There is one," the redhead admitted in a small voice. "I founded it."

Clint dropped his mug.

Thor choked on his pancakes.

Steve nearly missed the pan.

Even Bruce had to look up from his tea in surprise.

It was Bucky who broke the silence. "You never told us that."

"I just didn't see it as something to bring up." She shrugged.

"Well, that settles it," Steve said decisively. "We'll all donate to Nat's charity. Ten dollars an inch."

"Longest beard gets to donate an extra hundred thousand." Tony announced grandly, re-entering the room, apparently having gotten over being thrown three hundred feet. "Shortest has to work with Pepper for a month." The team collectively winced. Working with a pregnant Pepper was never an easy ride. Still, each of them nodded solemnly, now dedicated to the cause of Natasha's charity, knowing the aftereffects of HYDRA's work.

Clint formally issued the challenge. "It's on, boys."

* * *

**November 3rd**

_Goodness, the man slept like a rock,_ Clint observed as he slowly creaked open the door to Steve's room, having picked the lock a minute ago. _Had someone sedated him or something? _It didn't matter, for whoever it had been allowed Clint a decent window in which to sneak in, dye the super soldier's stubble purple, and get out without anyone noticing. Creeping up to him, Clint uncapped the bottle of purple hair dye, gently applying it to the still-sprouting hairs on Steve's chin. From a distance, it would simply look like someone had spilled purple paint on his chin. Which, in a way, was funnier than a purple beard. Having completed his job, he crept back out of the room, freezing when Steve groaned and rolled over. _Please don't let him sleep on his belly, _Clint found himself praying. _The dye job's going to get on his sheets. _Thankfully, Steve only rolled to his side, leaving the archer to exhale and slowly back the rest of the way out of the room. Once clear of the doorway, he bolted for his own room, wanting to be as far away as he possibly could when the storm hit.

He didn't know the half of what he'd started.

* * *

"WHY IS MY CHIN PURPLE?!"

Steve's shout rattled the walls of the entire building, resulting in Tony flying another hundred feet than Bucky had already thrown him that morning. The entire team had already gathered at breakfast, at a loss for what to cook-Steve was usually the first one up in the mornings, so the fact that he hadn't awoken until now was really quite alarming. On one hand, his shout had told them he was alive and well, but...

"Purple, you say, Steve?" Clint snickered as Steve stormed into the room. "You could start a new trend. Like a Smurf. But purple." At his glare, he raised an eyebrow. "Really, Steve? You haven't heard of the Smurfs? Seriously?"

"Introduce me to them sometime," he snapped, turning to glare at Tony. "Stark. My chin is _purple_."

Tony let out a genuine squeak of surprise. "You think it was ME?!" Steve just raised an eyebrow at him. "Look, man, my wife had a craving for spring rolls at 2AM. You know how hard that is?" He tiredly held up his coffee cup, which was black with a red spider in it. "I'm tired. Tired enough that I took Natashalie's mug and didn't care enough whether I died or not." Bruce nodded sympathetically. There was tired, and then there was 'I'm going to defy Natasha before coffee' tired.

"Well, if it wasn't you, then who was it...?" Clint cleared his throat uncomfortably, and it was then that he saw the purple smudges on the archer's fingerpads. "_You_!"

"Well, I mean, it only looks like you have a purple chin for now...?" he offered as a peace gesture.

Steve's eyes slitted to blue lines. "You've just started a prank war, Barton. And with a month with Ms. Potts on the line, I have no intention to lose this competition."

Clint gulped. Oh, shit.

* * *

**November 10th**

"Are you sure this is not in violation of the event?" Thor asked nervously, holding Loki up by the scruff of his coat. "It _is _the disappearance of facial hair, after all..."

"Trust me, Thor, it's perfectly legal," Steve answered, arms crossed. He, Thor, and Loki (specially recruited for the occasion) were in the tower's security room, currently watching the feed of Clint on his floor. The archer was splayed out on his couch, boredly flipping through channels on the TV. "There is nothing to be said about making it disappear. _Cutting it off _is a complete violation of the thing. Which is to say, you'd probably need to stop me if I went after Barton with a razor..."

"By all means, continue your conversation," Loki deadpanned. "It's simply _thrilling _to be held up by the scruff of my coat by my absolute oaf of a brother." Steve smacked him. "Ow! Watch it, mortal. This is genuine Asgardian leather."

"Just shut up and make his beard disappear, Loki." Since having his stubble dyed purple, Steve hadn't taken kindly to sarcasm in his direction. The only one brave enough to sass him these days was Natasha, which he took with a sigh and an upraised middle finger.

"As you wish, sir," he answered sarcastically, doing a complicated motion with his finger. They watched on camera as Clint's unfortunate attempt at a beard shot back into his chin, the archer not having noticed a thing. "There. Are the masses satisfied now?"

"Quite." Thor readjusted his grip on his brother and began to head towards the elevator, ready to deposit him back in his cell. "Though I shall not fancy asking Friend Barton where his facial hair has gone..."

* * *

It wasn't Steve or Thor who asked the question first, though. No, it was Bucky, of all people, who had taken the time to look up from the lunch spread to ask Clint a question. One that immediately died on his lips once he saw Clint's clean-shaven jaw.

"You shave, Barton?"

"What? Of course not..." Clint absentmindedly replied, putting a hand to his chin. "Why would ask that..." He trailed off as he found a lack of hair. "WHERE'S MY BEARD?!"

"I daresay the beard fairy up and shaved it off," Natasha innocently suggested, trying to not to burst out laughing at the archer's horrified expression. "Must've really wanted your beard. Maybe they thought it'd help their beard finding skills."

"Fuck off, Tasha." At that moment, Steve strode in, looking absolutely pleased with himself. Seeing Clint's face, he inquired,

"You okay, Barton?"

"YOU!" Clint realized in a moment, dramatically pointing a finger at the super soldier. "You shaved my beard!"

"Barton, you sound insane," Steve laughed. "How could I have shaved off your beard?" He raised both eyebrows at him. "I'm not magical. Last time I checked."

"Well, of course not, unless you-unless you-Loki." Clint's fists. clenched. "I'm going to kill the bastard." He abandoned his plate and stalked towards the elevator, it silently opening for him. There was silence.

"I'm going for the lasagna on his plate," Natasha quipped finally, reaching her fork over. "Anyone else?" Tony stared at Steve, an incredulous look on his face.

"I can't believe it! Our little Gramps is all grown up! He actually played a prank on Legolas!"

"You can't prove it was me," Steve scoffed. "Again. I'm not magical."

"Please," Tony countered. Bruce and Bucky leaned forward, wanting to hear the banter. "Don't sass me, Capsicle. One, you're very bad at it. I'm going to have to work with you on that. Two, you're the only one that had access to Loki's cell _and _the control room. I'm guessing Point Break gave you a hand."

"Fine," Steve grudgingly admitted. "But I have to walk around with the tip of my beard purple for the next twenty days. My suit isn't even purple! Couldn't he at least have dyed it blue? Or red?"

"Apparently not," Bucky supplied. "But I mean, the combination of red and blue _is _purple..."

Steve just shot a glare at him.

* * *

**November 13th**

"You're just wailing on the pranks here, aren't you, Capsicle?" Tony muttered as Steve roused him at five AM, blue eyes gleaming. "Is this for the seventy years you spent under ice or something?"

"Pranks of this caliber didn't exist back in the forties," Steve shrugged. "Now. Can I borrow your hair gel?"

"_This _is what you woke me up at the crack of dawn for?" Tony complained. "After three hours trying to make the _perfect _kale smoothie for Pep? By the way...we're out of kale." Steve accepted that with a nod as Tony rummaged through his bathroom cabinet, finally surfacing with a bottle full of shiny, clear liquid. "Here. Fresh off of the assembly line. Don't use too much of it. Can I go back to bed?"

Steve nodded, taking the bottle. "Tell Pepper I'll make her breakfast when she wakes up."

"She'll like that." The two parted ways, Steve on his way to Bucky's room, Tony back to the comfort of his bed and pregnant wife.

* * *

_Okay, a curl here, a bend here, snap it up here..._ Steve was carefully crafting a handlebar out of Bucky's semi-full mustache. He would've messed with the beard, but you simply couldn't have as much fun with a beard as you could with a mustache. "And..done." He snapped the bottle of gel closed, gently blowing on the mustache to make the gel dry. The hair gel had been chemically altered by Bruce for maximum staying power, enough to keep a hairstyle for weeks if one wanted to. That is, providing Tony ever went weeks without sleeping. Luckily, a very pregnant Pepper had been quite persuadable. Steve wasn't sure if he'd ever seen more blackmail tactics being used in so short a succession of time. "Mission accomplished," he told himself, quietly creeping out of the room.

"Please tell me you two aren't secretly sneaking into each other's rooms late at night," came the deadpan voice of Natasha behind him as he creaked the door shut. Steve quickly whirled around to see the spy with her arms crossed, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"No, we're not-I mean, I'm not-" In his haste to defend himself, Steve exposed the bottle of hair gel, which he'd been keeping behind his back, hoping Natasha would simply walk away. He should've known better that it would put her into interrogation mode.

"Ah. So you two _are _sleeping with each other."

"Natasha!" he quietly flinch-shouted, the beginnings of a blush beginning to creep up his neck. She smirked. Good to see he hadn't _totally _adjusted himself to modern society. "I am _not_, and I repeat, _not_, sleeping with Bucky! It's not funny!" he snapped at her, as she doubled over with silent laughter.

"It kind of is," she retorted, gasping quickly for breath. "Why else would you have hair gel?"

"I'm styling his mustache," Steve loftily responded, posing dramatically with the bottle. "Why are _you _up at six AM, may I ask?" He glanced down the hall, where the elevator was. "Sneaking out of Barton's, I see."

Her laughter quickly faded to give him a withering glare. "No, I am _not _sleeping with Barton," she affirmed in a deadly tone. "He has a girlfriend. Jemma Simmons. She's on Coulson's bus team." They locked each other in a staredown, green refusing to move from blue. At long last, she nonchalantly broke her gaze. "I'm heading out for a run. You in?"

"Give me five minutes."

* * *

"I'd suggest you'd start running, Steve," Bruce advised him when he entered the kitchen. "Bucky's trying to figure out who gave him a permanent handlebar mustache."

He didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

**November 16th**

"Tony! Tony! TONY STARK!" Pepper's enraged voice shook Tony out of the first restful sleep he'd had in months. "You didn't come to bed last night! I had an ugly craving for macaroons!" Whew. Lucky he'd picked tonight to fall asleep at his lab desk. Those would've been hard to find at 3 AM. He tried to pick his face up off of the desk, figuring out that he couldn't.

Or, maybe tonight was a _really _bad night to fall asleep at his desk. Someone (and he had a very good inkling who) had decided to superglue him to the surface of the desk.

"Tony. Lift your head up, for God's sake. I know you're tired, but you can't be _that _tired. Nat told me about the morning you stole her mug."

"I'd love to lift my head up, Pep, but I can't," Tony answered, his words coming out as a muffled response. "Bruce superglued me to the desk." Unfortunately, his words came out as "Mmmphfdsfhdsj sksf."

"I can't hear you, Tony. Lift your head up."

"CAN'T!" The one word made it to Pepper's ear. "BRUCE! SUPERGLUE! DESK!"

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," she consoled. "All we have to do is cut your beard off and you'll be good to go..." She was met with a loud, muffled response that somehow contained the words 'no shave november' and 'competition'. "Oh come on, Tony. It'll just be a few inches. Plus, you're never going to get off of this desk otherwise, and even _I _know that you like to get up and torture Steve every now and then."

"I wouldn't touch his beard," Bruce strolled into the lab, smirking. Catching the murderous look on Pepper's face, he quickly backtracked, "Do you want me to find the dissolving agent, Ms. Potts?"

"I would like that _very much_."

* * *

"Tony, I think you've got a little bit of something on your beard..." Clint remarked offhandedly as he reached for another stack of waffles, this morning being chocolate chip and blueberry. "Can't really tell what it is." Tony just grumbled and picked at his (now shortened) beard, wincing slightly as he encountered a bit of glue.

"If I didn't know better, I would almost say you got superglued to your desk," Bucky commented. Tony's eyes trained on him, wide. "What? I've superglued people to objects before. The result was always pretty good."

"You mean like the time I had to walk around with a rolled-up rug attached to my ass for three hours?" Steve teased, tossing him a waffle.

"Exactly that."

* * *

**November 20th**

"Tasha. You hear that?" Clint asked nervously as a loud roar sounded throughout the whole building. He and Natasha were calmly inhaling their daily dose of caffeine (well, as calmly as one could do that sort of thing) when they'd heard it, her eyes going wide while he slopped some coffee down the front of his shirt.

"That sounds...unnecessarily like...the Hulk..."

"Shit." they said together, scrambling off of their stools just as Steve burst into the room, shield in hand.

"Okay, so it wasn't you two, and I've got Bucky about five feet behind me..." His words were cut off by Bucky dashing into the room, comically colliding with Steve's back.

"Jesus, Rogers," he grinned, dusting himself off. "You gotta stop putting on muscle. Making me look like an absolute pansy, you are."

"Not my fault, I spar with the man with a metal arm," he cheekily retorted. Clint and Natasha glanced at each other, thinking the exact same thing. _Those two really needed to get it on._

"Friends, I fear Friend Banner has unleashed his alter identity!" Thor dashed into the room, hammer aloft. "We must take care of the situation as soon as possible!"

"And it wasn't Thor..." Steve, Clint and Natasha said in unison. "Stark."

"Superglue." Clint and Natasha echoed. Steve looked slightly hurt at being left out of the loop. "You'll get it next time," they told him, still overlapping with each other. Bucky just stared at the both of them.

"Damn. You sure you two aren't sleeping with each other?"

"Trust me, if we were, he wouldn't even _give _me time to finish his sentence," Natasha cheekily replied, heading towards the elevator. "Come on. We've got a Hulk to de-tame. Then a Stark to kill." Clint soon followed with Thor, leaving a very confused Steve and Bucky in the dust.

"Did she just imply..."

"I think so..."

* * *

"So that's five pancakes, ten waffles, six eggs, a pack of bacon, three hash browns, and eight sausages," Steve announced, setting the large dinner plate in front of the now exhausted Bruce. "I miss anything?"

"The tea," Bucky announced, setting Bruce's trademark green mug in front of him, already steaming with a cup of green tea. "But I figured you weren't far behind."

"Look at it this way, Bruce," Pepper offered kindly. "We didn't have to cut off any of your beard."

"And Tony's video of him drooling over Kate Upton is now on the newsfeeds," Natasha answered cheerfully. "Not to mention the fact that he's hanging off of the Statue of Liberty...again."

"Doesn't matter, guys," Bruce offered sulkily, picking up his fork. "I still Hulked out."

"Tony superglued you to the desk," Clint answered, stealing some of his hash browns and popping them into his mouth. "If I were you, I would've Hulked out too."

Natasha smacked him. "Don't steal his food." Clint swallowed his bite, scowling slightly. "The poor man's obviously feeling bad about Hulking out, and you're eating his only source of comfort?"

"Sleeping together," Pepper coughed. Clint and Natasha just looked at her. Since when had she defected to the dark side? "Don't tell me you guys aren't. I'm not falling for that bullshit, you two."

"Pep, you know better than anyone I have a girlfriend," Clint sighed, stabbing at his own meager stack of pancakes. "Sleeping with Tasha would be like sleeping with my sister. And I don't sleep with my relatives. Besides," he added around a mouthful of food, "Jemma keeps me _very _satisfied." Bruce spat out some food in shock.

"Hey! That took a decent ten minutes," Steve scolded. "Don't spit it out." Bruce scoffed mockingly at that, mildly grinning at Steve as he took a sip of his tea.

"Then you might want to tell Barton to stop making innuendos or I won't eat a damn thing," he drawled. "And that's a shame."

"Barton, no one wants to hear about your sex life. Like they don't want to hear about your secret collection of PEZ dispensers. Okay?" This time, Bruce _and _Clint choked to hear Steve using such foul language. Thor just gave him an appraising look.

"My friend, Mister Barnes has taught you much in the ways of sarcasm."

"I live to serve." Bucky took a deep bow.

* * *

**November 26**

"Movie night!" Thor exclaimed as the entire team piled into the living room. "The monthly event that brings us all together in a round of drinking, films, and food..."

"We get it, Thor, buddy," Steve chuckled. Everyone was in a good mood. The last six days had passed without incident, allowing the men to grow out their beards to unknown lengths. Thor's almost touched the floor, Clint's had made a significant recovery and was almost past his shoulders, and Steve's was just past his stomach, the tips a light shade of lavender. Bucky's mustache had a habit of poking into anyone he ran into, the hair gel not having worn off quite yet. Both Bruce and Tony were still picking bits of glue out of their beards occasionally. Bruce's had made considerable improvement, and was at par with Clint's, but Tony's was the shortest, Pepper having cut off a good three-quarters of what he'd had when freeing him from the results of Bruce's prank. "Movie nights are fun for all of us."

"Not this time," Natasha quipped icily from the other end of the room. She had been an ugly victim of Tony's misguided revenge on Bruce, part two, and had woken up to a pillow superglued to her head on the twenty-fourth. Being that fabric would have stuck onto her hair no matter what, she'd been forced to get a dramatic haircut, and her scarlet locks, once chin-length, were now tousled into a short pixie, radically altering her appearance. She definitely wasn't going on any seductress missions anytime soon. Not until her hair grew back, anyways.

She was _so _going to kill Stark once Pepper had the baby. She may have been cold-hearted, but only the coldest of the cold would leave a baby without a father.

"It's Harry Potter night!" Clint exclaimed, flipping through the channels. "They're showing all eight movies in a row!"

"Quick challenge," Tony announced. "Shots every time Draco Malfoy shows up."

"Hot Pocket shot for every time someone says a spell." Bruce added, said food already in his arms. Tony grinned and ran to get the alcohol.

"I think I'd rather not puke my guts out tonight," Natasha answered as she plopped down onto the couch next to Clint. "You two have fun with that."

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets**_

"I must say, I am unaccustomed to staring at the screen for so long," Thor muttered drowsily as Draco Malfoy appeared on screen yet again, Tony downing another shot glass' worth of alcohol. "I think I shall rest my eyes for a wee bit..." He was soon out cold, snoring. Gingerly, Clint moved himself away from the sleeping god, scooting closer to Natasha. She snickered, wiggling over to Steve, who was raptly watching the movie with an awed look in his eyes. So was Bucky.

"_Tallentallegra!" _on-screen Malfoy shouted. Bruce ate another Hot Pocket. It was his third box of the night, and they were only on their second movie. They'd have to draw straws soon to see who was going to have to put up with a stuffed Bruce Banner. By the way Tony was downing the alcohol, it definitely wasn't going to be him.

* * *

"The slime...oh, ew, the slime..." Steve whimpered. "It's all green and-" He let out a girly scream as the basilisk lunged towards Harry, fangs bared. "OH MY GOD IT'S COMING FOR ME!" With a slump, he hit the ground, Bucky regarding him with a bemused grin.

"I know, I know." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "My best friend is a wimp."

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban**_

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" Clint shouted, gesturing at the screen as the banshee shifted into a large spider. "THAT'S NOT PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE!"

"I thought you said you've seen all the movies," Bucky drawled at him from his position on the ground, where Steve was still unconscious. "Shouldn't you be used to this now?"

"He shouts out everything wrong with the physics every time he watches one of the movies," Natasha answered for him, Clint still shouting something about 2-D motion and gravity. "You learn to tune it out eventually." Bucky just nodded, returning his gaze to Steve.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU NEED TO FREAKING PULL UP INSTEAD OF SIDEWAYS, THE FORCE TENSION-" One minute, Clint was shouting full throttle at the screen, Tony egging him on, and the next minute, it was silent except for the movie and Stark's greedy drinking.

"I do believe you've lost your voice, Barton," Bucky remarked. The look on Natasha's face was of pure relief. She'd been halfway to going deaf. Clint squeaked at that realization, eyes wide, and promptly passed out, lying on the floor next to Steve.

"Oookay..." Bucky roughly got off of the floor, settling onto the couch next to Natasha. "Those two plus Stark and Banner's shots are making the floor a little crowded."

" 'S why you always take the couch to begin with," she quipped, curling up to watch the rest of the movies in peace.

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire**_

"Too...many...Hot Pockets..." Bruce fell prone to the floor, a Hot Pocket still in his hand. Natasha examined him. Was he actually snoring? She then reached down to pick up a Hot Pocket and ate it. _Mm. These were good. _

"I'm going to pass out," Bucky announced matter-of-factly to Natasha and Tony, who was now feverishly drinking with all of the appearances of Draco Malfoy. Four bottles littered the floor, with the fifth about to be discarded. Yet the billionaire was still going strong. "Floor seems good," he mumbled, slumping next to Steve. Natasha smirked at the both of them lying next to each other, one drawn to the other by a random force of gravity. Slowly, she raised her phone to snap a picture. This was _so _going on Instagram.

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**_

"So it's just you and me, Natashalie," Tony slurred, halfway through his fifth bottle of vodka. "You wanna do stuff? I promise I'll be gentle,"

If he hadn't been drunk off of his ass, she probably would've killed him right then and there just for suggesting it. Instead, she swiped the bottle he was currently drinking and took a large quaff, relishing the burn of the vodka going down her throat. "Mm. Not today, Stark."

"Good, because I don't think I can do anything with fucking Malfoy showing up all the time..." Tony swayed once, then twice, then was out like a light, curled up next to Bruce.

_Their beards were just so __long__..._

Never had all of the men been out at one time. Especially with those epically long beards. And they _had _been pranking each other all month...She scowled as a short burst of heat whiffed at her hair, pulling it up slightly. _They __would__ look nice if their beards were braided together..._

* * *

"Guys...? What happened?" Tony opened his eyes blurrily, attempting to move his head sideways. There was a small tugging on his beard on both sides. In the corner of his peripheral vision he saw Steve tugging at...Bruce?

"Stark? What's going on?"

"I think we're stuck together," Tony whispered back to him, pulling at his beard. "By our beards."

"Ugh. I had to wake up next to you, didn't I?" Bucky groaned, nudging Tony. "I couldn't wake up next to Banner. Or Steve. I had to get _you_."

"Hey, in my defense, I'm really fun once you get to know me,"

"Cut the bullshit, Stark," Clint had woken as well, and was now uncomfortably pulling at the right side of his beard attached to Bucky's. "Why are we stuck together?"

"I don't remember much," Bruce answered groggily. "I ate too many Hot Pockets at _Harry Potter 4..._"

"Same," Bucky echoed, still tugging at his mustache. "This is actually _really _uncomfortable."

"I passed out at the third one," Clint croaked. "In fact, I'm still sure I can't use my voice."

"The more, the better," Steve muttered. "I passed out before you, which was great." He shuddered. "Fucking basilisks."

"Has it been my imagination, or has Friend Rogers just uttered a foul word?" Thor was awake, and the party was complete. "And why do I seem to be attached to Friends Banner and Stark?"

"We're definitely dreaming." Bucky declared. "Steve would _never _swear in real life." Steve nodded at Tony, who punched Bucky in revenge.

"Enjoying being stuck together, boys?"

Natasha's well-rested voice echoed from the kitchen, and Clint and Steve looked up to see the spy with a large pot of coffee in her hands. "I gotta say, it was a good piece of work. Instagram is very pleased."

Clint and Tony sputtered. "_INSTAGRAM?_"

"The Avengers' beards braided together," she mused, walking over to Clint and holding up the jug, to which he silently opened his mouth. She poured some coffee in, adding sugar and half and half as needed. Clint swished and swallowed, wincing as some of the black coffee made his way down his throat. Bucky was next, preferring to drink it straight black.

"Can I have alcohol instead?" Tony asked.

He was promptly covered in coffee.

* * *

**This might be the longest one to date. I think it is, actually...so please pretty please give me a review for this one? I shirked a _lot _of homework for this one! The best review gets a meal from Steve! All of the food you can eat! Really! Please make my day... :)**

**Soo...here's the thing. Next week is Black Saturday...which means I'm going shopping, and then going to a friend's for a secondary Thanksgiving celebration...I'll try to update if I can, but I might be shooting for Sunday next week. Sorry if it breaks anyone's Saturdays :(**


	16. Tony and Cooking

**Happy Thanksgiving weekend to anyone that's out there celebrating it! To anyone else, I'm sorry I didn't get to update yesterday. I've been eating nonstop since Thursday, and it was a holiday, so here I am...**

**And. I got hit with a really cracky crossover plot earlier this week which I just mashed out with a friend, so I might start writing that...but NaNoWriMo's over, and I lost, but that means more time for fanfic! **

**Shoutout to Books are awesome01, Angel210142, and nkowaliuk for following! (LOL. I just figured out that because it's Sunday night, not a lot of people are going to catch the update...low numbers this week, then xD)**

**ROMANOGERS. I felt a bit traitorous, because I'm reading quite a bit of Nat x May and Nat x Skye (oh, you AoS ships...) Anyways, enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Tell me something's not burning," Natasha groaned from the covers as the smell of acrid smoke permeated the air. "PLEASE tell me something's not burning." She risked sticking her head out of the blankets, yawning as she glanced around the still-dark bedroom. Sniff. "Dammit. There is."

"It's too early for something to burn," Steve agreed from her other side, burrowing deeper into the blankets, much to Natasha's displeasure. "Tony doesn't start blowing stuff up until ten am." He chanced a glance at his alarm clock, which lay innocently on the nightstand next to him. "And it's...dear God, it's four-thirty."

"You go find out what he's doing," she protested, weakly attempting to tug back the covers Steve had stolen from her. "I don't wanna get out of bed. You stole the covers last night; I was freezing."

"_You_ do it," he retorted. "I did it the last time; Tony nearly threw a chicken out the window. And I'd like to mention that you nearly kicked me in the stomach at around two trying to get them back."

"WHERE IS TONY STARK AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM?!" There was the sound of breaking glass and the protest of the smoke detector, both making the soldier and spy dig deeper into their cocoons.

"It's not even light out, and Barton decides he'll piss off Stark." Natasha drawled. "Lovely. At least none of us have to get out of bed to figure out what the hell's going on." She snuggled deeper into Steve, who chuckled at the display of affection. She'd kill anyone who found out she was a cuddler.

"I know you two are awake!" Clint knocked on their door rapidly, almost splintering it in the process. "Can you two _please _come out here and help me knock Tony back into his right head?"

Her only response was a knife thrown at the door. "Fuck off, Barton. It's four thirty. Your own damn fault for waking up. It ever occur to you he's drunk or something?" Her arm, which had briefly snaked out of the comforter to throw the knife, was quickly drawn back in. "Dammit, did someone turn on the air conditioning last night or something?"

"No, that's the bad part. Stark's dead sober."

"Shiiiitttttt..." She was fully awake now, despite a half-drowsy Steve trying to pull her back to him. "Come on, Steve. Stark's cooking. _Voluntarily._"

"On Thanksgiving?" At that, his blue eyes shot wide open with fear. "On Thanksgiving. _It's Thanksgiving!_" He quickly scrambled out of bed, Natasha stealing the blankets almost reflexively. "I gotta cook and everything!"

"You're cooking turkey, Cap? Thank God." The relief was evident in Clint's voice. "I don't think I could handle Stark trying to tell the difference between a turkey and a chicken again. He threw the chicken out the window last year, remember?" He took the silence to interpret that as a solid _yes_.

"Steve." Natasha's voice muffled itself out from the tangle of blankets, causing him to stop with one leg in his jeans. "We need a backup dinner."

"What's a backup dinner?" The super soldier was completely foreign to the idea. Making extra food in case the original meal fell through? And what if they hadn't had a need for the second set? What a waste of food. Then again, he wasn't the one paying for it, after all...

"Another one of everything." She turned over so that she was facing him, propping her head on her elbow. "Turkey, vegetables...whatever the hell it is people eat on Thanksgiving." Her emerald eyes were filled with seriousness, something that Steve missed in the dark as he hurriedly pulled his jeans on. "I'll be damned if I don't have a decent Thanksgiving with-" She suddenly shut her mouth, drawing his attention.

"With what?" Having finally gotten his jeans on, he went over to Natasha, perching on the edge of the bed. "Nat, what are you talking about?" A thought suddenly hit him. "Oh, God, you're not breaking up with me on Thanksgiving, are you? Because that's just a whole other world of cruel that I don't even think _you're _capable of."

She let out a laugh then, a respondent, rich velvet flow of music despite the early hour. "No, I'm not breaking up with you. God, no." He leaned in to kiss her then. "That's for Christmas." He froze. "Babe." She picked her head up to meet his lips. "I'm joking. Go get groceries."

* * *

"I swear he's been kidnapped," Clint ranted at a more decent hour of the morning, pacing back and forth in the living room. Tony was singing merrily in the kitchen, accompanied by the clanging of pots and pans. "Someone's taken the real Tony Stark and replaced him with this one. Only they screwed up badly. The _real _Tony Stark doesn't cook-he just sits, bitches, and drinks."

"Oh, shut up, Legolas," Tony called back, head immersed deep in the refrigerator. "I just want to make a meal for my lovely wife and unborn child. Is that such a crime?"

"If you're the one cooking, yes, it is," Clint muttered.

Thor scratched his head. "I am fairly sure that Loki hath not been near Friend Stark for quite some time. This paradox is quite baffling." Even the Asgardian knew better than to let Tony near cooking utensils on any occasion whatsoever.

Bruce entered the room, holding a vial of blood and squinting at it confusedly. "There's nothing wrong with his blood work. I've checked it five times and there isn't anything in it. No toxins, no drugs...there isn't even an elevated level of alcohol!" He sighed and lowered the flask, looking at Clint. "As scientifically impossible as this may be, I think Tony actually wants to cook."

"I think we may or may not have to film this," Pepper announced, waddling in. She was quite pregnant now, at the point where she waddled everywhere she went, much to the men's amusement. "Tony's actually cooking for once. Should I call the world record committee? Or whatever I need to get this inthe history books?"

"I resent that comment," Tony snorted as he took a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. "I can cook just as well as any of you."

"As well as Tasha, maybe," Clint snorted. "We're talking about the one who manages to burn cereal." He was promptly hit in the side of the head with a pillow.

"Says the man who thought that onions and garlic were the same thing. Remind me how Bobbi puts up with you again?"

* * *

_After the potatoes have been boiled, let them sit for fifteen minutes. Take them out and slice them, then place into a large pot for mashing. Mash until creamy, then add butter, salt, pepper, cream and garlic to taste._

"Garlic?" Tony muttered. "Why the hell would anyone put garlic in their mashed potatoes? Why not white wine?" Still, this was Pepper's Thanksgiving, and he was hell-bent on making sure the entire meal was done right, beginning to end. The potatoes had been sliced and boiled, and were now sitting at the bottom of a large soup pot, ready to be mashed. All he had to do was find a masher and he'd be ready to go.

Wait. Where _was _the masher?

"JARVIS?" he whispered, not wanting anyone to know he wasn't even capable of finding a simple kitchen utensil. Personally, he thought he'd done great by making it this far. He'd sliced potatoes and boiled them-Clint couldn't even boil water. "Where's the potato masher?"

"In the second drawer to the right, Sir," JARVIS, ever so discreet, opened the correct drawer with a loud clattering of utensils. Tony scurried over to the drawer, picking out the masher with ease.

"Alright, one, two three-" He brought the masher down with all of his strength, expecting to at least reduce _one _potato to bits. But when Tony opened his eyes, there was no sign of potato bits at all. In fact, all of the potato slices were still solid.

He tried again, this time making more of an Asgardian effort. Still nothing. What was he doing wrong? Tony brought down the masher repetitively, making more of a hacking motion than that of mashing. Suddenly, one of the potato slices in the pot slipped out of the grasp of the masher, flying an impressive distance for a small piece of starch. It arced across the room, past the couch...

...and right through the window with a loud tinkle. Tony had just broken a window. With a potato.

"Well, there go the potatoes," Clint deadpanned, following the billionaire's shocked gaze. "Pro tip. I wouldn't mention this to Pepper. She's not going to want to fix a window on Thanksgiving Day." He reached into the pot and brought out a potato, weighing it in his hand. "Tony, did you get potatoes or did you get taro? I swear, if you went to that Asian supermarket in downtown Manhattan again..."

"Looks like he got coconuts," Bruce proclaimed, examining the object in Clint's outstretched hand. "Nope," he declared shortly, popping the 'p'. "Definitely taro. I'll take those," he said to Tony, "they'll make a good taro and pork." Both the billionaire and archer were left stunned as the scientist headed to the elevator whistling, pot in hand.

* * *

"Can you at least _tell _me what we're going to be eating?" Natasha demanded as Steve purposely pushed his cart through the aisles of the local Whole Foods. "Vegetables? Meat? Are we eating some weird Mexican food?" He raised an eyebrow at that, and she shrugged, putting her palms up. "Hey. Missions get weird. If Clint can make anything, it's a mean churro."

"How about the turkey?" he challenged, hefting the thirty-pound bird into the cart. Surveying the bird, he frowned. "Think we'll need another bird?"

"Knowing that we're eating with two super-sized appetites and a very pregnant lady? _Yes_." Steve rolled his eyes and put another bird into the shopping cart. "...That's not a_ fresh_ turkey, is it?"

"...Yes, what's wrong with a fresh turkey?" Steve asked. "Never had frozen turkey in my day, not gonna start now." Natasha promptly picked up the turkey and threw it gently back into the freezer, exchanging it for a frozen one.

"Let's go frozen. You know, _let it go_ and whatnot..."

"You know fresh is technically better than frozen," he argued, switching the birds back again. "You don't know what's been put into the frozen turkey. Fresh is as fresh as it can get."

"You can get just as sick with a fresh turkey," she retorted, switching the birds he'd just picked. The two of them were now staring at each other, holding the turkeys in their arms. "Cross-contamination. Pathogens. All sorts of things they didn't have in _your day_,"

"Did you really just use my upbringing as an excuse?" He raised an eyebrow at her mildly. "That's low, Nat. That's pretty damn low."

"Which is why you never want to argue with a-" Realizing what she was about to say, she clamped her mouth shut for the second time that day, instead plunking the frozen turkey into the cart.

"A what?" Steve asked, easily taking one frozen turkey out of the cart and replacing it with a fresh one. "A woman? Believe me, I've tried that."

"A Russian. Yeah-yeah, a Russian. Never argue with a Russian over turkey," was her weak response.

* * *

"This isn't so hard," Tony muttered to himself, surveying the various ingredients spread out on the kitchen counter. "Bread, sausage, celery, rice, onions...how hard can it get?"

He began to chop up the bread, throwing it into a large metal bowl, adding to it the sausage and onions, all the while mouthing the ingredients. "Barton can go to hell," he said confidently. "I'm not going to mess this up. This is absolutely impossible to mess up. Not like the damn potatoes. Nothing's going to fly out of the window, no siree..."

"Don't stir too hard now, Stark," Clint teased as he passed by, "You already broke a window. Let's not aim for two." Tony shot him the middle finger as he continued to stir the mass, glancing at the instructions. _Add milk_.

"Okay, milk." Retrieving the carton from the fridge, he poured the white liquid into the bread mixture until it was satisfactorily soggy, and went back to stirring.

"Um, Tony...? Are you sure it's supposed to be that...wet?" Bruce asked cautiously, peering into the bowl of meat and soggy bread Tony was now mixing with ease.

"I don't think so, actually," the billionaire declared, peering into the bowl himself. "I think it needs salt, and then it'll dry right up to the texture it needs to be. Just like chemistry!" He went over to the cabinet and pulled out the large container of salt-this time, he actually knew where it was-and shook some in. The white mush still looked soggy. "It'll dry up," he assured himself. "All I have to do is mix." A couple turns of the spoon later, he was right. "I _knew _I could cook!"

"Now to put it into the oven..." That was the easy part. He knew how to pre-heat an oven, and he knew how to put something in. Now, all that there was left to do was wait and hope that there would be at least _one _edible dish for Thanksgiving...

"How do you fare in your quest to create sustenance, Friend Stark?" Thor boomed, entering the kitchen some time later. Tony was hunched in front of the oven, watching the stuffing rise and bubble. He had to say, it was coming along quite well. Nothing had burned, and it actually resembled the dish in the picture the recipe depicted.

"Thirty seconds," Tony told him. "Then we'll see if I did this right." _Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one..._

"It is time!" Thor proclaimed, easily opening the oven and taking out the dish. Without oven mitts. Tony's mouth hung open at Thor's ease handling the dish.

"That's-Thor-a hot dish-"

"Nonsense, Friend Stark!" he answered cheerfully. "'Tis nothing, compared to the roasted game on Asgard."

"Alright, Stark's serving up the grub!" Clint exclaimed, suddenly appearing in the kitchen wielding a spoon. "Shall we have a grand taste?" His spoon hovered over the browned crust of the stuffing, still steaming from when Thor had taken it out of the oven.

"I'm in," Pepper waddled into the kitchen, retrieving a spoon from the cutlery drawer. "Everyone spoon in at the count of three? One, two, three!" She and Clint dug their spoons in for a hearty spoonful, gently blowing on their mass of stuffing before tipping it back into their mouths. Tony noticed that Clint did so with a slight look of apprehension.

It wasn't too long before Pepper swallowed painfully, plastering a smile onto her face for her husband's sake. "Wow, Tony, that's...interesting..."

"Yeah," Clint gasped, swallowing his own spoonful. "Definitely a new twist on stuffing." The two of them shared a look which instantly made Tony's stomach sink. He'd screwed up again, hadn't he?

"Alright, you two, what'd I do?"

"Tony, I think...you may or may not have used sugar instead of salt?" Pepper questioned gently. "Don't worry, anyone could make that mistake."

"Not the consistency of the stuffing, though." Clint, blunt as ever, scooped up another spoonful of stuffing. "Can I start a food fight with this mush?" He jokingly aimed at Tony, completely unintending to hit him, but did so anyways.

"Boys." Pepper's voice was reproachful. "Wait until I waddle out of the room."

"Yes, ma'am." As soon as she'd made it past the doorway, Tony scooped up a handful of the mushy stuffing and threw it at Clint, hitting him square in the face.

"PAYBACK'S A BITCH, ISN'T IT, BARTON?" he yelled before sprinting away. Clint's responding shot hit him square in the back, burning a square patch onto it and bringing Tony to the ground. "OW! MY BACK! I NEED A CHIROPRACTOR!"

* * *

"Are we having stuffing?" Natasha bugged as Steve grabbed a number of stuffing loaves from the shelf. "I've never had stuffing," she babbled. "At most, I've had mush, because this family that I had to take out _tried_ to make stuffing, and they left the oven on when we blew the house up-"

"Nat, are you sure _you_ haven't been brainwashed lately?" The cart was suddenly stopped, a concerned look on Steve's face as he turned to face the redhead. "You _never_ babble about missions. Hell, you don't even _babble_."

She swallowed, wanting to phrase her words carefully. There were some secrets that had to be kept for a reason. "I'm fine, Steve. It's just my first Thanksgiving, is all. I'm nervous. What if something happens? Tony's cooking is infamous, after all."

"But you gotta admit that he makes a decent...actually, never mind. That sentence doesn't exist." Steve shook his head as he wondered at his state of mind in which he actually considered Tony to have culinary skills. "Can you get the celery?" She made a face but went off anyways.

He sighed. Something had just been so..._off _about Natasha lately, although he couldn't put his finger on it. The babbling, the secrets...He'd asked her about it plenty of times, but knew her well enough to know when she was fronting. The truth was, he'd actually been a tiny bit serious if he'd asked her this morning if she was breaking up with him. Had she found someone else? Steve didn't think he could handle it if Natasha left him for someone else. Come to think of it, she _had _been spending a lot of time with Bruce lately...

Steve shook his head. Natasha would _never_ cheat on him with Bruce. He trusted the good doctor with his life. Surely, if something had happened, Bruce would've let him know.

"Got the celery," Natasha's mildly amused voice rang back into his ears as she dropped several plastic bags' worth of celery into the cart. "Saw May, too. Apparently she's going to try and cook for Coulson today." Her smile was absolutely infectious, and made Steve grin a bit, too. "If there's any state of it, May's cooking skills are even worse than mine."

"Natasha, you burnt cereal. Which, by the way, I still don't get. It's not physically possible."

"I only did it once. May's managed to make peanut butter and jelly spontaneously combust. She gives a whole new meaning to the words 'Homer cooking'." She rolled her eyes and attempted to peer over his shoulder for the next ingredient on the list, squirming a bit as she balanced on her tiptoes. At the somber look on his face, she paused a bit, her smile faltering. "Steve...you okay?"

"I'm fine," Two could play at the game of secrets. After all, he could think about it as an exercise at being undercover. Fury had told him multiple times that he'd been an awful liar. "Just thinking, that's all." _Had he been a good boyfriend lately? Okay, sure, there was that time he'd left the toilet seat up and everything, but that had ONLY been because he'd gotten back from a mission that had required him to act like a total bachelor... _"Now, I think we need some green beans..."

* * *

"CRANBERRY SAUCE ACCOMPLISHED!" was the triumphant phrase that rang through the kitchen as Tony emptied the last can of cranberry sauce into the overly large dish bowl. "I did it, suckers!"

"Dude. You opened fifty cans and put their contents into bowls." Clint was frowning. "Tell me what kind of culinary finesse that required, again?"

"It required skill with a can opener," Tony answered, miffed. "And also, superior measuring skills. You had to know how many cans of cranberry sauce fit into each bowl, lest you overflow a bowl and everything goes to shit."

"And how many cans to a bowl?" Clint deadpanned. "Do tell, before I kick the bucket from old age."

"Three cans to a bowl," Tony announced proudly, scooping up a bowl into his arms and heading towards the large table that had been set up the in the living room. Various places adorned the table, including a dinner plate resembling a shield for Steve, and one with an arc reactor for Tony. The first bowl made it onto the table just fine, for which Tony breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least, the baby would have cranberry sauce. That is, if Thor didn't eat it all first.

"Ah, shit." Clint muttered from the kitchen. Suddenly panicked that he'd ruined Tony's (sort of) hard effort, the man in question dashed into the kitchen, not failing to notice the small bit of cranberry sauce Clint had dropped onto the floor.

"Tony, look-" The archer was cut off by Tony slipping on the cranberry sauce, arms flailing as he tried to gain balance, sweeping one of them at all of the bowls, knocking them to the floor. He was suddenly on the tile floor covered in cranberry sauce, blinking as some of its acidity got into his eyes. "-out."

"TONY! WHAT HAPPENED?!" Upon seeing Tony on the floor covered in red, Bruce tore into the kitchen, collapsing onto his knees at the sight of the prone billionaire. "You're bleeding out! Did Clint accidentally shoot you or something?"

"I'm offended!" Clint exclaimed. "If I'd wanted to shoot him, I would've done it a _long _time ago!"

"It's just cranberry sauce," Tony coughed, having swallowed some of the gelatinous substance when he'd fallen. "I'm okay, Brucie."

"...at least we have _one _bowl of cranberry sauce," Pepper sighed from the dining room.

* * *

"Can we get some kimchi?" Natasha inquired, startling Steve. She hadn't said a word since having gotten the celery, and since then, the two of them had gotten canned corn, butternut squash, and several cans of cranberry sauce. "I have a weird craving for kimchi."

"Where would I even _find _that?" Steve wondered out loud, more to himself than to Natasha. She could feel the cold shoulder he was giving her, and despaired, trying to find out what she'd done wrong. "That sounds vaguely...Asian."

"Two aisles down," She pointed at the sign boasting all sorts of Asian foods, seaweed and kimchi included. "I'll get it," she told him, hurrying away.

She'd picked out the jar of kimchi some time ago, but had just needed some time to herself. _What did I do wrong? Was it something I said? Oh, God, what if it was that quip I made about the forties? I don't know why I said it, I just...what if he's mad at me for that? Shit. What if he's breaking up with me? Is that why he asked me that this morning? Does he want to leave me? I knew he was too good for me, _she lamented, sighing. _I'm so selfish to have kept him to myself. I bet he wants Hill. Or, wait, no, maybe it's Sharon..._

"Nat?" She turned to see Steve with a full cart, concern lacing his blue eyes. "You got the, uh..kim-chee? Is that how they say it?" His confused expression was so adorable she had to smile.

"I got it," she answered, gently placing the jar into the cart. "You got everything you need?"

_What if he knows?_

* * *

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..." Tony hurried into the kitchen to see black smoke billowing out of the oven. "Not the turkey, man! Not the turkey!" Wrenching the oven door open, he was greeted with the sight of a flaming turkey, setting off the wailing of the smoke alarms for the second time that day. "That's the second turkey today!"

"Tony! Did you...ah, yes, you did," Bruce hurried in, hacking. "You burnt the bird again. Did you do what I told you to do yesterday?"

"I did!" he insisted, reaching for some oven mitts and mentally preparing himself to take the flaming food out of the belly of the beast. "I just had to take a quick bathroom break, and when I got back, the damn thing was on fire!" Panicking, he reached for the first liquid there was, intending to pour it over the bird to put out the flames.

"TONY, DON'T, THAT'S-"

But Tony had already poured the offending liquid over the turkey, and instead of putting out the flames, succeeded in sending them all over the kitchen. Luckily for them, at that moment, Clint arrived with a fire extinguisher, spraying it with abandon. Soon, Tony and Bruce were covered in foam, making it look like several birds had had attacks of diarrhea over the both of them.

"-Natasha's vodka. Oh, she's going to kill you when she gets back," Clint exclaimed gleefully.

"Well. We got covered in a bird's shit." Tony said. "Literally. I take it there's no more cooking today?"

"I'm going to go call Steve," Bruce answered, gingerly stepping in the foam, lest he slip and cover himself in foam _and _cranberry sauce. Tony just sighed.

* * *

"Well, I'm glad we took the time to go to the supermarket," Steve told Natasha later on their floor, unloading the groceries they'd gotten. "Tony managed to scorch the entire kitchen. Looks like I'm the one cooking dinner." She simply nodded.

"I'm going to go take a nap, if that's alright with you." Steve made an abstract motion, and she headed to the bedroom, shutting the door before finally beginning to silently sob into her pillow.

* * *

"Wow, Steve, this looks great!" Pepper praised as Steve set the last of the prepared foods down onto the table, both of them already groaning under the weight of two birds, stuffing, and the various vegetables, not to mention the dish Bruce had conjured up with the failed taro. A sheet of plastic wrap had been stretched over the broken window, with an unspoken agreement not to speak of the incident. Tony's ego had been bruised enough already.

"All I did was follow a recipe," he chuckled, grinning slightly. "It's not that hard, once you get past the cooking jargon..." He trailed off, looking out the window.

"You know I normally don't ask, but are you...did something...?" Pepper didn't press often, but when she did, the situation usually was past crisis point. "Is Nat...?"

"Nat? She's fine," Steve answered offhandedly, still refusing to look her in the face. "We just...at the supermarket today..." Sighing, he ran a hand through his blond hair. "Has she talked to you lately? About anything at all?" He finally turned to her, true worry etched onto his face. "Some other guy she's been really friendly with, for example...or, you know, another girl, that works just as well..."

"Um," Pepper choked slightly. "Unless you want to hear, for the hundredth time, I'm sure, about how all of the men in Admin are sexist jerks, then I'm not sure I can be of any assistance in that area..." She didn't mention how the fiery redhead had turned up one night when Tony had been in the lab pulling an all-nighter (which she'd been planning to kill him for), sobbing incoherently about something Pepper hadn't really understood. There were just some things that had to be kept secret.

A look of horror crossed Steve's face. He'd heard _that _story too many times to count. "No, thanks, Pepper. I'm good on that, though. But thanks."

"No problem." Natasha's rant on the Administration men was enough to scare any man. "Have you tried talking to her?"

"That's the thing," Steve ground out frustratedly. "She _won't_. Every time I try to ask something, she skitters away."

"I'm sure she'll tell you in due time," she assured him gently. "Right now, though, let's have food. I'm starved!" Right at that moment, there was a subtle _plop_, along with the sound of something dripping onto the floor. "Or not. I think my water just broke."

* * *

"Okay, Pepper, we're at eight centimeters. Two more until we're going to start pushing," Bruce assured the sweaty CEO, who was gripping Tony's hand like it was the end of the world. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm going to fucking CASTRATE you, Tony Stark!" Pepper exclaimed violently, cheeks flushed. "We are not having any more children in this fucking lifetime! You fucking hear me?!" Tony chuckled.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"I gotta say, Tony, you're holding up pretty well," Clint commented from the far end of the room they'd set up in the lab just for the purpose of the baby's birth. Pepper had insisted on giving birth at the tower, not 'trusting the doctors enough with the baby that's going to save the world one day'. "You looked like you were going to jump out of the window earlier." It was true. Tony had run a couple of circles around the table, run into the kitchen and had promptly slipped on cranberry sauce, rendering him unconscious for an hour until Natasha had poured ice water on him. Once he'd woken up, he'd panicked yet again, and hadn't shut up until Pepper had started screaming his name.

He chuckled exhaustedly. "It's going to be a long night."

"Nine centimeters, Pepper. Get ready."

"You shall be fine, Lady Pepper," Thor reassured her in his low baritone voice. "Think of the unconditional love you shall feel for your child once they emerge from the womb. It is unlike any other feeling in the world, I can assure you."

"Do we even want to know how he knows this?" Clint murmured to Tony, who smirked.

"What I want to know is how he's right," Pepper groaned, throwing her head back. "AAAGH!" The smirk on Tony's face was instantly replaced by a look of worry as he massaged his wife's knuckles soothingly, murmuring words of encouragement.

"Ten centimeters, Pepper!" Bruce exclaimed. "Here we go."

For the next couple of minutes, there was nothing but the sound of Pepper grunting as she struggled to push out the baby. Each Avenger watched with bated breath, save for Bruce, who wore a look of total determination like no one had ever seen.

Even in their discordant state, Steve couldn't help but think of Natasha in that moment. He knew as well as she did that they wouldn't be able to have children, something he was eternally grateful for. He would've hated to pass on his messed-up genes to any descendants. But one day, he hoped for a child that they could love and care for, just like Pepper and Tony would have soon.

Natasha watched the proceedings with a look of apprehension and nervousness. Pepper seemed to be going to through hell. Once again, the human body never ceased to amaze her with its wonders (okay, so maybe most of those wonders came in the form of Steve Rogers,) at how Pepper was managing the pain without passing out.

"One last push, and you're going to meet your new baby!" Bruce called to Pepper, who immediately gave the biggest push she'd given all night, her vocal cords giving out as she screamed hoarsely. Soon, the cry of a newborn baby could be heard as Bruce cut the various cords, swaddling the baby in a blanket. "Congratulations, you two! It's a girl!" He began to strip off his gloves, disposing of them in a wastebasket. "The rest of you, get out. Let them have their moment." One by one, the five of them filed out of the room.

* * *

"So, I think some congratulatory champagne is in order," Clint announced, bringing out a bottle he'd stashed in the lab fridge earlier. He popped the cork, Bruce already reaching for the flutes. "To the new girl!" The four men clinked glasses, Natasha having declined the alcohol, wistfully eyeing it instead.

"You sure you don't want any, Nat?" Steve asked as he sipped from his flute. "Normally, you'd be hitting the vodka pretty heavily by now..."

She snorted gracefully (how did anyone _do _that?) and settled further back into her chair. "Even if there _was _vodka, I wouldn't be able to drink it for a while,"

Clint dropped the bottle in surprise, it shattering on the floor.

"Aw, come on, Barton, that was a decent bottle of-what's happened?" Tony came out, wheeling Pepper and his child. He looked from each Avenger, from Clint's shocked faces to Thor and Steve's puzzled ones. "What's happened?"

"Well, for one, Natasha refused alcohol," Steve said mulishly. "And now she's telling us she won't be able to drink vodka for a while." Comprehension dawned on Pepper's face, and she squealed in joy, careful not to wake her newborn child.

"Congrats, Nat!" Natasha smiled softly, curling up onto her knees. "If I weren't in this stupid wheelchair, I'd be hugging you right now. To death, I assure you."

"Would someone mind telling us what's going on?" Tony demanded, breaking their moment. "There are quite a few of us who'd like to know here."

"Tony, do you remember how I told you I was pregnant?" Pepper asked quietly.

"I took out a bottle of Chantis and you said you-" A large grin broke out onto Tony's face. "Congratulations, Natashalie."

"And for that, I won't kill you. Just this once," Natasha murmured back, feeling giddy that her secret was now semi-out in the open.

"Congrats," Clint echoed, still in shock. He turned to Bruce, who was nursing a little grin of his own. "Banner, you sneaky bastard. How long have you known?"

"About a month or so," Bruce answered sheepishly. "I was expressly threatened not to tell anyone until everyone else knew."

"Many congratulations, Lady Natasha," Thor boomed, Clint having clued the god in while Pepper had been squealing. "I am sure he or she will be quite worthy."

"He-she-what?" Steve squeaked. He quickly turned to Natasha, shock on his face. "You're not-it can't be-I thought it was impossible-"

She grinned. "Surprise?" At the look on his face, she relented, "I would've told you sooner, Steve, I really would've, but I wanted to know whether the baby was okay and..."

"Is _that _why you've been avoiding me and spending so much time with Bruce?" She nodded. "Geez, I thought you were going to leave me for him!" He shook his head. "It actually makes sense, now...Did he say the baby was okay?"

"Completely healthy," Bruce answered cheerfully. "She'll be due in eight months." He frowned at Steve mockingly. "Really? You thought she'd leave _you _for _me_?"

"To be fair, I thought he was going to leave _me_." Natasha confessed quietly, and all eyes turned to her. "I know it's irrational, but I just thought..."

"_Natasha._" Steve swept her up into his arms, cradling her into his shoulder. "I will _never _leave you. _Ever._ You got that? Especially with this baby."

"We've got another baby Avenger on the way," Clint said in shock. Then he buried his head in his hands. "Oh, damn. Another nine months of pregnancy hormones. Tasha's going to make Pepper look like Baby Jesus."

Natasha swiped at his head. "Shut up, Barton. We're looking for a baby from you and Morse soon."

"To the baby, and the new one!" Bruce proposed, and everyone raised a toast.

"To babies!"

* * *

**And so ends another installment...Please review? The winner gets the Thanksgiving meal Steve cooked! And the butternut squash is DESTINED to be good. I'll PM you should you win! :) And, also, let me know if you want to see that crossover :D It's a Frozen/Captain America crossover...yeah, I know. My brain works weirdly. **

**I'm planning to put these on Ao3...just in case you guys wanted it there :) It's a slow process, but I'll get it done xD See you guys next Saturday!**


	17. The Powerpuff Girls

**And so we go into the first week of December...this is going to be an absolutely _joyful _month. Two concerts, a triple performance...oh, absolute fun. Best get my rest before next year, though. It all goes down starting in January. **

**Shoutout to RomanogersWhovian, Megan750, and GeekyChic123 for following! :)**

**SINGLENESS TIME. I've got a VERY important Romanogers chappie coming up, ehehehehe :)**

* * *

"You seen Stark?" Steve questioned Clint as he fended off yet another mutated rat trying to bite into his shoulder with his shield. Currently, the super soldier and archer were standing back to back, the former whacking at the rodents while the latter simply shot at them with a dwindling supply of arrows.

"Nope," Clint answered shortly, this time sinking an arrow into a rat trying to eat his leg. "He was supposed to be here with backup half an hour ago. Nat!" he called across the field to the spy, who was shooting rats with a hypnotizing grace known only to the Black Widow, the furry monstrosities dropping faster than one could say 'Squeak'. "You seen Stark?"

"I wish I had, so I could kick his metal ass," she yelled back, effortlessly dispatching another round of rats. "Where are all these damned rats coming from? The Fire Swamp?" Steve would've been surprised if the moment had afforded it. Finally, _someone _who felt comfortable casually referencing _The Princess Bride_! He'd watched it a couple of days prior to the mission and couldn't help connecting it to everything that he saw.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but Stark had better hurry up!" Clint groaned as he fired his last arrow into a rat, having to resort to fight with the knives stashed on his person. "Who's up for the 'Let's kick Stark's ass' club meeting after this?" A dead rat came flying over his head, courtesy of Thor swinging his hammer into it.

"I shall not be quite pleased with Friend Stark after this altercation," he rumbled, disposing of yet another five rats at the speed Natasha had taken out one. "I would like to be a part of this club you are proposing."

"Natashalie and gentlemen, have no fear!" Tony's voice could be heard from far out even as he fired his repulsors at the various rats. "The Powerpuff Girls are here!" The _Powerpuff Girls _theme song began to blast from his speakers as he continued to take out rats, sometimes blasting to the beat of the song.

_Blossom, commander and the leader_

_Bubbles, well she's the joy and the laughter_

_Buttercup, well she's the strongest fighter_

_Powerpuffs save the day_

_Fighting crime, trying to save the world_

_Here they come just in time..._

_The Powerpuff Girls!_

"Someone tell me one, what this song is, and two, why Tony's playing it?" Steve wondered casually as he collided his shield with the last rat, allowing himself to turn around and help Clint take out even more. "Is this some thing that I missed while I was in the ice?"

"Right in one," Clint huffed as he was about to hurl a knife at a rat, only to be saved by Steve slicing it in half with his shield. "Didn't know you could do that,"

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Stealing my line, are we, Captain?" Natasha smirked as she kicked the living crap out of another rat, shaking the blood off of her boot. "I think Stark can handle the downfield part of the rats. I don't know about you guys, but I'm done here." Thor agreed nonverbally as he swung another rat in Tony's direction. "This calls for a good amount of food and alcohol. As well as a discussion with Stark on his choice of theme songs. Just what are the Powerpuff Girls?"

Clint stared at her in horror.

* * *

"Okay, the fact that _no one _in this tower seems to know who the Powerpuff Girls are calls into question the serious effects of our attempts at education," Tony announced, plunking down several bottles of beer, sparkling apple juice (they happened to be Steve's preferred drink of the week,) and an unidentifiable bottle of Russian vodka. "So Birdbrain and I have decided that we are all going to get drunk, watch _Powerpuff Girls_, and then attempt to assign roles. Sound fair?"

"If alcohol's involved, I'm in," Natasha made a grab for the translucent bottle. "I haven't had this stuff in ages." It was true-mostly because Tony had locked the door to the alcohol storage with a pass code Natasha had yet to crack. He'd finally had enough when Thor had found her hanging off of the roof with nothing but a bungee cord, screaming at imaginary unicorns.

"_The city of Townsville!"_

* * *

"Seriously, Steve, there's no doubt about it," Tony slurred, slumped over with a bottle of beer in his hand. "You, my friend, are Bubbles. You are Bubbles, through and through." He let out a half-cheer as said superhero beat up a red twenty-eyed monster, screaming while she did it. "It's not a bad thing, you know. You get a sonic scream, electric forces, laser beams...not to mention that you already have superhuman strength. What else could you ask for?"

"You forgot to mention the extreme love of all things cute, fluffy, and a hatred for cruelty," Clint wagged a bottle at Tony disapprovingly. "Cap loves everyone. Well, most of the time," he amended when Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. "And he's the nicest one."

"I say that's arguable," Tony protested as he took another swig of beer. "Do you all not forgo paying rent on this tower, month after month?"

"I insisted on paying rent, Tony," Steve answered mildly, sipping at his juice. "You just refused it." To tell the truth, he didn't mind being the nice and cuddly one. As long as it came with the sonic screams, he was good. The laser beams wouldn't be a bad touch, either.

"I believe you are all missing an important factor that links Friend Rogers to Bubbles," Thor added loudly, quaffing half of Natasha's vodka as she winced. "They are both blonde, are they not?" There was a chorus of 'ohhhh' and 'true, true' from the drunken party, most of them from Clint and Tony.

"That's settled then. Cap's Bubbles!" Tony announced.

"Doesn't that make you Blossom, then?" Steve inquired, as the redheaded five-year-old proceeded to lecture both of her sisters, the flow of words clearly emanating from the speakers. "The know-it-all who likes bossing people around?"

"Clearly he has the hair for it," Clint snickered, and just like that, he and Natasha were rolling on the floor laughing. Tony frowned at the both of them, considering whether he wanted to throw his drink at them. He decided against it in the end, settling for shoving Clint in the shoulder.

"It is possible," Thor mused. "His suit is red, like her hair, as well as his constant display of his excessive knowledge being a factor. However, I feel I must add that while Blossom only displays occasional arrogance, Friend Stark's comes in abundance. As well as the qualities of leadership." That made Tony stop.

"Hey!"

"Don't complain, Stark," Natasha snorted, finally having found the strength to get off of Clint. "You're the one who gets to have ice breath. Then again," she muttered, stealing her bottle of vodka back from Thor, "not that it was considered an extra power in the first place,"

"I get fire breath too!" Tony protested.

"Also not an added trait," Clint interjected helpfully, cracking open another bottle of beer. "Face it, Stark, the only thing you _really _get from Blossom that's new is the laser eye beams. And that's until you invent something in your suit that'll allow that. Take Blossom and shut up." The five of them went silent, watching the girls beat up various monsters and the occasional villain, until Steve piped up,

"Then who's Buttercup?"

Every eye turned towards Natasha. She looked shocked at the conclusion, almost dropping her bottle of vodka. "_Me_? Why me?"

"You refuse to give up," Steve began.

"You're particularly violent," Tony added. She kicked him. "See what I mean?"

"You possess the fastest speed of any of us," Thor acknowledged, nodding. "And last of all, but certainly not least, Lady Natasha, you may have an outer shell, but your heart is made of gold."

Natasha bit her lip. Could she really be a superhero? Fictional or not, to even be compared to one was still outside of her comfort zone. Her past was anything but heroic. No way she shared anything in common with the black-haired character. Although, she mused with a small grin as Buttercup took down a villain with nothing but a single kick, being the superhero did have its perks. "Yeah. I guess I am Buttercup."

"She gets to be Buttercup! He gets to be Bubbles!" Clint gestured madly at Steve and Natasha. "Who do I get to be? Utonium? Mayor? Anyone good?"

It took a few more episodes for the five of them to agree on a consensus, after wholeheartedly making the decision that Bruce was most definitely Professor Utonium ("It's like having a father again," Tony had sobbed. "Man does like his chemicals," Steve mused.) that Clint was meant to be no one other than Fuzzy Lumpkins.

"I doth protest!" Clint exclaimed as the vote was sealed by a loud 'DUH' from Natasha. "There's no way I'm meant to be..." He shuddered as the villain, fuzzy, fat, and armed with a shotgun, tried to dissuade trespassers from his property. "..._him_."

"Mm, fat, pink, fuzzy, and territorial about anyone who gets near the vents?" Tony asked. "Yeah, I'd say that's you in about five years. Without donuts. Add in the donuts and I'll shave it to three."

"Not to mention those five hundred something animals running around the vents," Steve muttered. "I swear you've picked those up from every mission we've been on."

"I know," Natasha muttered darkly, although there was no denying the adoration in her tone. "I found a bunny last week. Almost shot it, thinking it was a rat."

"Did it have blue eyes and a twitchy little nose?" Clint demanded, suddenly _very _sober. "Did it, Tasha, did it?"

"Don't all bunnies have blue eyes and a twitchy nose?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "No? Then yes."

"You found Cuddles!" Clint enveloped her in a hug that was entirely offset by his drunkenness, one that Tony and Steve were sure he would've given even if he _had _been sober. "I can't believe you found Cuddles!"

Steve choked on his juice for the first time that night. "Clint...are you sure _you're _not Bubbles?"

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no," Bruce muttered as he entered the kitchen to muffled shouting from the vents. "It's too early for this."

"I'm still sporting the hangover to go with it," Tony affirmed, holding his head in his hands. "Is it morning already?"

"GIT OFFA MAH PROPERTY!" There was an explosion, followed by a _very _disheveled Steve stalking into the kitchen. Black soot covered his hair, along with the occasional smudge on his face. His pajamas were completely singed, the sleeve still burning.

"Does someone want to tell me why, when I opened my vent cover this morning to stop the flow of heat coming in, the entire thing blew up and Clint started shouting in a hillbilly accent?"

"Clint's got vental PMS again," Natasha announced, her hands thrown into the air as she came into the kitchen, her normally unruffled hair sticking in every which direction. Tony opened his mouth to comment, but was cut short at her pointed statement. "Stark. Don't. Even."

"Not the vental PMS again," Bruce's head hit the table. "I thought we were over that."

"Must be the fact that there are about...oh, five hundred bunnies in his vent?" Steve scowled, shaking a bunny from his sleeve. It hopped onto the counter and began to munch on Tony's waffles, giving a little squeak of excitement. "And that Clint's refused to give away none of them?"

"I tried to persuade him!" Tony insisted loudly. "And he wouldn't listen!"

"Since when has _anything _you've tried to convince Clint of ever _worked_?" Natasha asked. The bunny had hopped over to her by then, beginning to nuzzle her elbow. She turned her gaze to the bunny, expression quickly melting into adoration. "Aw, he's so cute!"

Tony's jaw dropped open. "Is it my hangover, or did Natashalie just call something _cute_?"

A knife just barely missed his fingers. "Never mind. Just the hangover then."

"I'll try and return him," Steve assured, scooping the bunny deftly out of Natasha's reach before she could kill it. "Hopefully I can try and get Clint out of the vents, too."

* * *

"Clint?" Steve called cautiously, sticking his head up into the vent from his bedroom. It was free from any booby traps, he assured himself. Any traps that had been set there he'd set off this morning. "Clint, where are you?"

"I'd suggest you get your head out of my vents," a low voice sounded, and Clint emerged from the darkness, holding three bunnies in his arms. "Unless you want your head to be lopped off." Steve gulped. The archer didn't seem to be playing around.

"I brought a peace offering," he offered nervously, slowly raising the bunny into the vent. "Come on, Clint, you gotta come out of the vents. I'm sorry Tony tried to convince you to give the bunnies away, and I promise you won't have to give back any of them, just...come out of the vents, Clint, c'mon. Natasha's worried about you, too." Silently, he said his prayers that the red-headed assassin wouldn't kill him afterwards.

Clint was silent, weighing the options of coming out of the vents. They probably involved having to eat food, Tony's continued bothering (which he _really _couldn't deal with today,) and Natasha's teasing on owning all of those bunnies. Nope. He considered activating the trap that would send Steve to the Hulk containment chamber, but decided against it. The man hadn't tried to bother him, after all. _And _he'd brought back the bunny...As the fluffy creature scampered towards him, he was glad to see it was Cuddles, the bunny who'd been missing for the last couple of hours. Finally, he looked at Steve, the fear glinting in his blue eyes even though he was half-dark. "Don't try to get the bunny back. Just get out, quickly, before I change my mind and decide to send you to the Hulk containment chamber."

Steve didn't need telling twice. His head disappeared from the opening, the covering quickly shoved back into place.

"You're up, Tony," he said to the billionaire leaning against his bedroom wall. "And should I even ask how you got in here?"

* * *

"So, Legolas, you really should get out of the vents because I need someone to test those new arrowheads and Natashalie really can't shoot a damn and you're the only one who's actually going to need them and plus Thor's getting really riled up about this show called _Adventure Time _and I have no idea what the hell that means and-oh, Steve's making cake!"

Tony had initially jumped into the vents, planning to talk endlessly until the archer got annoyed and came out of the vents just to shut him up, but quickly clamped his mouth shut when he saw Clint advancing towards him.

"You think he's doing okay up there?" Steve asked Natasha in the kitchen, as both of them stared worriedly up at the vents, waiting for Tony to come down. "I mean, nothing's blown up yet, and JARVIS would've told us if Tony had died..."

"As a matter of fact, Sir, it is in my protocol that Miss Potts be notified first should Master Stark come to an unlikely demise," JARVIS chimed in from the speaker. "But I can assure you, he has not yet deceased."

"See, even JARVIS knows that Tony has a chance of dying up there," Natasha snorted, rolling her eyes. "I told you you should've sent me up there. Remind me why we decided to send Stark first."

"We wanted to avoid all violence possible," Steve sighed, running his hands through his hair. "If we send you in, Natasha, you're going to blow something up, regardless of whether we've told you to or not. We're trying to get Clint out of the vents, not blow up the tower." He paused. "At least, not so soon after Tony finished rebuilding the thirty-second floor."

There was a loud THUMP, and Tony's scream travelled down the vent, fading away as Steve, Natasha and Thor hurried to try and follow it.

"Master Stark has been deposited into the Hulk containment chamber, Sir," JARVIS assisted helpfully. "And Master Barton wishes to inform you that should you attempt to send anyone else up to intervene for the remainder of the day, he will dispose of them in a similar manner."

"Like I said," Clint drawled, sticking his blonde head out of the vent cover, a bunny holding on for dear life by a couple of strands. "_Git. Offa. Mah. Property._" He brought his head back up, reaching out an arm to catch the bunny that had suddenly been left without a hold, pulling that back up too.

Natasha squared her shoulders. "I'm going in."

* * *

"Looks like they finally decided to leave me alone, didn't they, Mr. Fluffernutter?" Clint cooed to the bunny, who squeaked in agreement and burrowed into his neck. "Yes, they did, the bunny-wanting bastards," he muttered. "I'm keeping all of you to myself. Goodness knows that none of them are able to take care of pets properly." One of the bunnies nudged his knee, and Clint reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a baby carrot and feeding it to the bunny. "There you go, Nutella. You like your carrots, don't you? And I wonder why I named you after chocolate spread."

_Creak_.

"Turns out they decided not to leave me alone after all," he muttered, his mood instantly souring. There was only one person that had the audacity to try and sneak into his vents through stealth. "Give yourself up, Tasha," he called, scowling at the far end of the vent. "I know it's you."

There was no response. Clint had to hand it to the spy. She, true to her Powerpuff persona, never gave up. But still. It was another second before the vents creaked again, followed by a whispered Russian curse. Clint slowly drew his bow, pushing his bunnies behind him so they wouldn't be part of the casualties.

"My name is Clint Barton," he whispered. "You go into my vents. Prepare to die."

* * *

THUD.

"My guess? She's headed to the same place as Tony," Bruce sighed. "They're going to kill each other within five minutes."

"Enough with this nonsense, Barton!" Thor, suddenly enraged, swung his hammer at the ceiling, causing the entire vent to rattle with the force of the strike. "You descend from these metal mazes right this moment!" Several bunnies rained out of the various vent openings, Steve and Bruce's faces contorting in horror as they fell the great height.

"THE BUNNIES!" they shrieked in unison. Steve ran to the left and Bruce to the right, each of them attempting to catch as many bunnies as possible. They came in every color-brown, black, white, and every shade in between. The relief on Steve's face was palpable as the bunnies stopped raining from the ceiling, and several bunnies sniffed up at him inquisitively. Bruce was looking a little more than nervous as he cradled a good number of bunnies in his arms, many of them whimpering.

"I think they're injured," Bruce whispered, so as not to upset them. "We'll have to put them in medical care."

"The poor little babies," Steve agreed, leaning down to nuzzle them. Several of them nuzzled back, giving him little bunny kisses. Had Natasha been there for the moment, she would've been laughing her ass off, too amused to take pictures. The great Captain America, disarmed by bunnies. Who would've thought? He began to make his way to the elevator. "I'll bring these ones to the lab and get them settled."

"Make sure you put them in the Tony-proof chamber," Bruce called as the elevator door slid shut. Steve's parting answer was a waved hand. It was now just Thor, Bruce, and a whole load of bunnies versus a pissed off Clint. Seeing as Bruce was the only one left who hadn't tried a tactic, he said to Thor, "Thor, do you think you could take the bunnies?"

Thor walked over to Bruce, easily scooping the remaining bunnies into his cape. To his delight, they immediately began to squirm, attempting to scrabble around in the soft material. "What cute Midgardian creatures!" Of course, at that, all movement stopped as the bunnies burrowed into each other, scared of the large, booming voice.

"...and I think you've only traumatized them more," Bruce muttered, then said to the god, "Take them to Steve in my lab. He'll know what to do with them." Thor nodded his assent and started off for the elevator, making sure to talk to the bunnies in a soothing voice. As soon as the door shut once again, Bruce defiantly faced the ceiling.

"Just you and me, Barton," he said, spreading his palms up. "Time to throw punches."

"What kind of punches can you pull, Bruce?" Clint's voice was muffled. "You can't pull anything without the Other Guy coming out. And I know that your containment chamber's a little occupied at the moment, so unless you want to be responsible for _more _repairs, I don't see what you can do."

"Clinton Francis Barton, you get your ass down here or I swear to Thor I will blast the Powerpuff Girls theme song from every speaker you have in those damn vents." Bruce threatened through clenched teeth. "You have until three."

"And if I don't get down?" The archer's voice was no less snarky, but held the slightest tinge of fear. Good. Someone was finally getting to him.

Bruce simply pushed the button.

_BLOSSOM! COMMANDER AND THE LEADER_

_BUBBLES! WELL, SHE'S THE JOY AND THE LAUGHTER_

_BUTTERCUP! WELL, SHE'S THE STRONGEST FIGHTER_

_POWERPUFFS SAVE THE DAY_

_FIGHTING CRIME, TRYING TO SAVE THE WORLD_

_HERE THEY COME JUST IN TIME_

_THE POWERPUFF GIRRRLLLSSS!_

True to his word, the theme some began blaring from the speakers. More bunnies began their descent from the vents, distressing Bruce even more than before to try to catch them as Steve wasn't there. He caught the first three with a squeak, but after that, they were hitting the floor with alarming regularity, too shocked to move after having their first initial meeting with the linoleum. Bruce quickly scooped them up and placed them into a cage, working as rapidly as he could while the song was still blaring.

_FIGHTING CRIME, TRYING TO SAVE THE WORLD_

_HERE THEY COME JUST IN TIME..._

_THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!_

_POWERPUFF!_

"I YIELD!" came Clint's agonized shout. "I YIELD! JUST DON'T HURT MR. FLUFFERNUTTER!" He immediately dropped from the vents, and Bruce shut off the song, leaving blessed silence in the room for the first time in what felt like ages. The archer was disheveled, the aftereffects of a hangover clearly present.

"Ah. You've returned, Master Barton," JARVIS echoed, surprised. "Miss Romanoff wishes to inform you that she and Sir are about to engage in sparring in the Hulk containment chamber, and that you should be in attendance." Clint's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Stark versus Tasha?" he exclaimed. "I am SO in!" He hurried off to the elevator, hangover forgotten, leaving Bruce alone with at least a good hundred bunnies, some of which were becoming desensitized to their shock and were now beginning to explore the living room.

"...so it looks like I'm supposed to deal with the bunnies, apparently..." Just then, one of them hopped onto his arm. "You're not all that bad. I think I'll name you Hulkey..."

* * *

By the time Clint had reached the Hulk containment chamber, visibly shaking with excitement at the thought of a battle between the two biggest tempers in the tower (excluding Bruce, of course), Natasha had already had Tony pinned to the ground. Steve and Thor were in the corner, Steve grinning as he counted the money in his hand.

"Took you long enough," she smirked at him. "I took him down ten minutes ago."

"And she STILL hasn't let me up!" Tony groaned, his face smushed against the floor. "Capsicle bet against me, too," he grumbled. "How was I to know that you couldn't summon a suit through Hulk-proof glass?"

"Apparently, a fight between Tony and Natasha's been the subject of a pretty decent betting pool," Steve admitted, waving a wad of cash at him. "This is just from the agents who had the proper clearance to witness the fight."

"WHAT'S THIS ABOUT THE BUNNIES?" Phil Coulson stormed into the room, the anger mottling his face an ugly purple. "We run an agency, not a pet shelter, dammit! I've got every agent I know asking for one of Barton's bunnies!"

Tony weakly raised an unpinned arm to point at Clint. "It's all his fault!"

* * *

**Those poor bunnies. Up for adoption! One (or all of them) goes to the best reviewer! And to those guests that leave the COOLEST reviews, make an account so I can actually give you a prize! Because truly, the guests are the ones who are leaving the best reviews, right now. And that's saying something. **

**See you guys next Saturday! :D**


	18. Never Have I Ever

**Two days late is probably the worst it's ever going to get, guys. I'm sorry. There was some... family trouble that I've had to deal with, and my entire family's just assumed that I don't need help, so it's frustrating. This one's not my finest work, I know. **

**On the bright side, a very Romanogers Christmas is coming up and I'm really excited to write it, so that's going to be fun! (Did anyone watch Scarlett Johansson on Barbara Walters' "Most Fascinating People" last night? Squee. :D)**

**Shoutout to Cytryne, MockingjayDivergent20 and Sportsfan64 for following! **

**Also, I'm going back to best review shoutouts, haha. So Pikapegasus and FanFictionQueen1 take the cake here xD Come on! I know you guys are there!**

* * *

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Son of Coul?" Thor queried as he met the aforementioned man on the landing pad of the Tower. "I take it there is a pressing crisis that requires our attentions?"

"No, nothing like that," Coulson assured him wearily, sighing. Actually, what _wouldn't_ he have given for a world crisis. Hell, even another Chitauri attack would have sufficed compared to what he was doing on Stark's helicopter pad. "My team has decided to throw together a mutiny and demand we take some sort of vacation," Time off that Coulson was positive would've been better spent on a tropical island, but noo, FitzSimmons had _insisted_ on meeting Tony Stark, Skye had been raving nonstop about meeting Captain America, and Bobbi and May had threatened to steal all of his underwear should they not use the time to catch up with Natasha. _Great. The three of them would definitely be ten times worse than getting beat up by the Hulk._

"Ah, then by all means, let me grandly welcome you in!" Thor exclaimed, waving an arm. Coulson motioned to May, who was watching from the cockpit, and the stern Asian woman lowered the hatch, letting the overexcited team members loose.

"I can't believe I'm going to meet _Tony Stark,_" Jemma exclaimed, perhaps a little too excitedly for her normally prim and proper self. Fitz just frowned at her. "Jem, we have to make the proper impression," he murmured. "None of this squealing and whatnot, it's not becoming for people of our caliber..." All pep talk was instantly ceased when he caught a glimpse of Thor's hammer. "Oh. My. Goodness. Is that...Asgardian metal.." One could almost sed the drool leaking from the corners of his mouth. _Almost_, had Skye not given him a non-too-gentle slap upside the head.

"Someone had to," she shrugged nonchalantly, brunette locks bouncing as FitzSimmons sent a synchronized glare at her. "Can't make me look bad in front of the Avengers, can we?"

"Trust me, there'll be plenty of that," Bobbi deadpanned as she gracefully dismounted the ramp, Hunter and May flanking behind her. "I'm sure they'd all _love_ to hear about the time Coulson almost burnt the plane out of the sky."

"You said you'd never mention it," the agent hissed, whipping around to face her, the embarrassment clear on his face. "We all agreed that this was going to be kept between you, May, and myself-"

"What aren't we mentioning?" a cocky voice chirped from the door, and the team turned to see Clint, quiver strapped to his back, leaning against the doorway. He raised an eyebrow at Coulson, who was caught between frustration and chagrin. "Good to see you, Phil." He shot the two-fingered salute to May, who rolled her eyes. "Cav." To Bobbi, he said, "Glad you could make it in. Tasha was halfway to infiltrating HYDRA to see you." Both of them snorted inelegantly at that. Natasha, undercover at HYDRA? "And who are the young'uns?"

"Hardly young," Skye and Hunter snorted, then turned to each other to continue the argument. "No, obviously you're the younger one compared to me-I am NOT young! I'm a quarter of a century, for God's sake!-Yes, we all vividly remember having to change your diapers, darling-"

"That's FitzSimmons," Coulson pointed to the pair, who waved shyly. "Resident lab rats. That's Tripp over there, lugging the luggage, and Mack's just checking the Bus. Skye and Hunter are the ones bickering like the old married couple."

"Luggage?" Steve appeared next to Clint. "Who's staying this week? Didn't we _just_ get rid of Peter? I swear, if I have to clean up one more web-" He was cut off by the sound of a THUD. Coulson and May turned to see Skye on the ground, having fainted at the sight of her childhood idol.

"Guess Skye was a little excited to get a glimpse of Captain America," Coulson chuckled, knowing that that would've been _exactly_ how he'd react had he seen Captain America for the first time.

"Why is it that they always collapse around Capsicle?" Tony complained, joining the trio and team. "I'm just as handsome as he is." This was effectively punctuated by the fainting of FitzSimmons, the former falling first as the shocked scientist's mind had gone blank by just _being_ in Tony's presence. "I take it this isn't for my face,"

"It's _never_ for your face," May told him bluntly, as the billionaire clutched his chest in hurt. "It never is."

"Phil!" Pepper's bright voice echoed from the living room, and she shoved Tony, Steve and Clint aside, striding outside to hug him. "How have you been?"

"Two years. Two years and I'm still not to it," Tony complained childishly, turning in and stalking off. "Good seeing you, Agent!" Coulson shot him the bird as he let go of the blonde, introducing her to the now unconscious members of his team. "Let's see, there's Skye, FitzSimmons, and you already know Agent Morse..."

* * *

"Skye. Skye. Dammit, Skye, wake up or I'm pouring this bucket of ice water on you." The hacker groggily awoke to see Bobbi, May, a blonde and a redhead standing over her, concern reflected in the faces of the first two.

"What happened? I wasn't shot again, was I?" The redhead and blonde cast curious looks at May and Bobbi. The latter just shrugged, while the former sighed, waving off the story for another time.

"You saw Steve Rogers and passed out," the redhead smirked wryly. "I wouldn't get too worked up about it. Coulson does the same thing about every other time he comes to visit." Skye was about to raise an eyebrow and cast a quippy remark when Bobbi leaned in close to her ear, having been the closest, and whispered,

"I wouldn't piss her off. You'd be pissing off the Black Widow if you did." At that, Skye shot up, eyes wide. She shook in a slight bit of fear-who wouldn't?-and began to back slightly away from the let out a full-throated laugh, turning to smirk at the redhead, brown eyes brimming with amusement.

"Told you you'd scare her, Nat. You scare the shit out of everybody." Bobbi groaned, knowing what was coming next. The routine was an inside joke by now. "_Literally_ scared the shit out of Morse when you first met her."

"Do we have to bring that up every time?" she whined. The other three let out snorts of amusement. "It's been five years and even _Hunter_ won't let up on the time I shit myself upon meeting the infamous Natasha Romanoff."

"To be fair, Pepper pissed herself," Natasha shrugged, earning a scowl from the blonde. "Before she tried to deck me, of course,"

"Had I known who you were, Nat, I wouldn't have decked you," Pepper rolled her eyes.

"Wait, what?" Skye's head was spinning as she tried to process all of the new information. "What do you mean, 'before she tried to deck me'?"

"I'm not drunk enough to tell that story," Natasha and Pepper echoed, sighing exasperatedly at the memory.

"Did I hear someone needing to get drunk?" Tony poked his head in excitedly, grinning like a kid on Christmas. "'Cause I can work alcohol into our next game!" The assassin and CEO facepalmed.

"D'you remember what happened the _last_ time we played a game, Stark?" Natasha's threat was subtle, but heard by every woman in the room.

"Yup, which is why Agent will be sober to the paperwork as we go!" the billionaire replied, unaware of the danger his life was in. "Come on, Pep," he cajoled as he became the receiving end of his girlfriend's glare. "What better way than to celebrate than with alcohol?"

* * *

"So the rules to this one are simple," Clint began later that night as everyone sat in a circle, designated bottles of alcohol next to their shot glasses. "If you've done it, take a shot. If you haven't done if, don't. Got it?"

"I'll go first," Tony pondered for a moment at what he _possibly_ could not have yet done before finally saying, "Never have I ever ridden a bike."

Steve choked on a sip of Asgardian mead. "You've NEVER ridden on a bike?!"

"I was raised by nannies, remember?" Tony answered dryly, not yet drunk enough to go into memories about his childhood. "And plus, I don't see the need for it. JARVIS can get me any simulation I need. Isn't that right?" he inquired of the AI.

"Indeed, sir."

"You are sorely lacking in your girlfriend abilities," Steve muttered to Pepper, who only slugged his shoulder in response. "Never ridden a bike, my ass." He was next. "Never have I ever played an instrument."

There were several mutters of 'piano', 'violin', 'clarinet', and 'viola' along with the clunk of shot glasses hitting the floor. Thor even got into the round, having muttered something about the harp.

"And I was pretty damn good at the violin, too," Pepper relished nastily. "Of course, until that damn Cassie Tarson came along..." Everyone snickered at the thought of a young Pepper with a violin, holding the bow like a potential weapon. "Oh, stop smirking, Clint. I found your clarinet."

"Did he ever tell you he tried to charm a snake with it?" Natasha smirked, causing Clint to turn a shade of red eerily similar to her own hair.

"'S why we never talk about Dubai. Because never I have ever been bitten in the ass." Steve coughed involuntarily as Clint took a sip along with-surprisingly-May.

"Snake," the arched emphasized, pointing to himself. "Me," he anwered, pointing to May. She shot him a glare.

Wanting to avoid a bloodbath, Thor quickly proclaimed, raising his glass, "Never have I ever consumed this Midgardian treat you all call a s'more..."

Several people choked on drinks, including Coulson, Skye and Steve. Pepper was even looking over him worriedly to make sure he hadn't accidentally ingested cyanide.

"You are all so boring," Coulson muttered, having a couple shots too many of Asgardian mead. "How 'bout 'never have I ever done the dirty in a public place'?"

"I thought we'd agreed we'd never mention that," May muttered, cracking open a fresh bottle of vodka and throwing it down to save her embarrassment. "It was once. And I was in Quebec."

Skye made a sour face at Bobbi and Hunter, who were also chugging like there was no tomorrow. "_Please_ tell me we steam-cleaned those SUV seats." Bobbi eyed the young agent as she tilted the bottle higher, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "what makes you think we did?"

* * *

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Mack muttered unsteadily later as the group converged in Central Park. "People could see us, ya know?"

"Nonsense!" a very inebriated Tony announced, waving a hand spastically and almost hitting Pepper, who was standing next to him. "You said you'd never been go-karting, and we're going go-karting!"

"In the middle of the night? In Central Park? In neon, sparkly glow-in-the-dark go-karts?" Steve questioned a bit drunkenly, the serum already beginning to wear off the alcohol's effects. His face scrunched adorably with the effort to try and find something wrong with Tony's plan. "Ah, screw it. You only live once."

"That's the spirit!" Skye, who had somewhor become attached to the super soldier during the course of the night, was now hanging off his shoulder drunkenly. "Let's go!"

"Drunk go-karting," Coulson slurred exasperatedly, sluggishly mentally processing the paperwork he'd need to fill out for this one. "This one calls for a category all its own."

Soon, each of them were paired into go-karts. There was a range of emotions among the group, from competitveness to frustration. (Thor hadn't been able to fit his hammer in beside him.) Clint revved the engine of his and Natasha's red-and-purple car, determined to beat out Bobbi and Hunter. Beside him, May's lips were set in a tight line, already gloating on how she'd gloat to Skye when she and Coulson left her in the dust with Steve.

FitzSimmons just looked nervous. And halfway nauseous.

"I think I'm gonna hurl," Fitz moaned in the car next to Mack, who briefly patted him on the back, too focused on winning.

"Just think about what'll happen if you do," he reassured the scientist. "Stark'll be pissed if you upchuck in his new go-kart." That was enough to shut Fitz up.

"GO!" Bruce shouted, waving a black-and-white checkered flag. The cars were off immediately, save for Thor, who hadn't yet managed to figure out the cars' workings. The squealing of tires could be heard as well as shouts, with the occasional crash in the distance. Bruce sighed, picked up the flag, and headed back towards the tower. He'd pick their hungover selves back up in the morning...

* * *

But apparently, he'd been too late. The NYPD had gotten there first, and the only reason the officers hadn't been incapacitated?

Hangovers.

"Call Hill to do the paperwork," Coulson muttered sluggishly, being hauled into a van. "And then Fury to bail us out."

So when the timid scientist showed up on a video conference with the director explaining the situation, it was all Fury could do _not_ to pitch himself out of his office window.

* * *

**Yup. So that's it for this week. Review, guys? Pretty please? The best review (and if there's a decent one from someone new, bonus!) gets the sparkly go-kart of thier choice! **

**See you guys on Saturday! :)**


	19. Charming the Mistletoe

**MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it, haha xD**

**Shoutout to Sounduser and Simpson17688 for following!**

* * *

"HELP! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP!" It was Skye's panicked cries of help that brought each Avenger and Bus member out of their respective bedrooms, equipped with various weapons, save for Tony and Bruce. It was too early in the morning to get into _that_. The fact that they were all armed but all dishevelled almost made the poor hacker forget the reason she'd shouted for help in the first place. _Almost._

"Skye, what's wrong?" Coulson exclaimed upon seeing no bodily harm. "What's going on?" Just about everyone else in the room was wondering the same thing. Nothing had blown up, no one had died (yet), and there was no impending crisis...

"I'm stuck!" she cried. "I can't move more than five feet in every direction! Watch!" She took five steps forward, and each of them watched as she scrabbled at the air, as if there were some kind of barrier. She moved back to the center and started again, this time taking five steps to the right, poking at the air again and finding it impenetrable. "See?"

"This could be a problem," Clint mused. "Although, then again, not so much. At least you can fix up the holes in your system, Stark," Skye stuck out her tongue at him. After all, he'd been a part of the hacking scheme as much as she had.

"There are no holes in my system!" Tony exclaimed, affronted-or at least as affronted as someone could get at nine in the morning. "JARVIS, there aren't any holes in the system, are there?"

"As of now, sir, there are currently-"

"Fuck off, Barton." Clint just grinned cheerfully.

"Merry Christmas, Stark!" Tony stalked off, presumably to the control room to fix whatever damage Clint and Skye had damaged that time. He _knew _he never should've let it slip that Barton was the master of hacking. If he had, there would've been so many issues resolved right now...

"Hate to break up the bromance-" Natasha smirked when Clint gave her a glare, tossing her vermillion hair back, having put her gun away when no danger was apparent. "but how do we get dear Skye out of her current predicament?"

"Thank you!" Skye exclaimed, thankful that _someone _was paying attention to the fact that she was currently confined to about eighty square feet. A girl could only go so long without going nuts. "And it's almost Christmas! I need to wrap my presents! I even got AM a..." She trailed off when she saw May's glare. "Actually, you know what, better not."

"I really see no way to get you out of here, Skye," Jemma remarked, careful not to step into Skye's vicinity. "Providing that I can't even see the force field that's blocking you, there's really no scientific way to break you out of this. It has to be some sort of magic." At that, Bruce sighed and went to get Thor. The god slept through everything-even the noises of Steve and Natasha. (They'd tried. They really had. Clint had had to sanitize his vents a good fifteen times after that one.) They had yet to test out Bobbi and Hunter-the Bus team had only been here for a week, and the archer was currently on his monthly round of vental PMS.

"I see we have found our first victim," Loki's oily voice oozed from the vents, and they looked up to see the trickster with his head hanging out of the vent, grinning with a camera in hand. No one was sure which to address first: the fact that he'd gotten past Clint's booby traps or that he actually knew how to work a camera. "Oh, don't look so shocked, you mortals. Of course I know how to operate a camera. It's one of the simpler Midgardian devices, actually. Unlike that good-for-nothing device you all keep in your rooms. What was it called again? A larm, or something of the sort." Steve snorted. Even _he _knew how to use a lamp. They'd been around during his time, after all. Given that it wasn't one of Stark's. Those were fair game.

"Loki," Coulson was the first to regain sensibility once they'd all digested the fact that the god didn't know how to operate a _lamp_. "What did you do to Skye and how do we undo it?"

"Why, I would've thought that you would be pleased!" Loki exclaimed with mock surprise. "After all, it is a Midgardian tradition, is it not?"

"Confining people to eighty square feet?" Skye shrieked. "What twisted books have you been reading? _The Scarlet Letter_? Because that certainly explains it!"

"Have you not taken the chance to look up, dear Skye?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at her. "Would that not have solved the problem of what your predicament is?" She, along with everyone else, directed their gazes upward to the high ceiling of the living room, some of them squinting to see the small spot on the top.

It was Clint who spotted it first, being true to his name. "I think I know what happened here..." He turned to May and Coulson, offering an explanation to their bewildered expressions. "That thing up there," he pointed to the extremely small object he'd spotted, "is mistletoe. And I think it's charmed to trap who walks under it to be stuck until someone kisses them."

"Very good, Barton!" Loki clapped his hands together, the camera strapped to his wrist. "Good to see that you have a brain inside of that thick head of yours. I knew there was a reason I picked you to control."

"You're inside my vents, Laufeyson," Clint growled back at him. "And now that you've proved useful to us, I'm going to kill you." He let loose an arrow at the opening, Loki jerking his head to the side to narrowly avoid the projectile. The thumps of the hastily crawling man could be heard throughout the tower's ventilation system, while Clint headed to the kitchen to hoist himself into the vents there.

"Insult to Barton + vental PMS day=disaster," Coulson murmured. "Duly noted. We'll have to scrape him up in an hour or so."

BOOM. "Or less. You know. Depending on the stash of explosives he's got up there."

"Guys?" Skye demanded from her spot. "Hello? Hacker stuck under some binding mistletoe? Anyone? Hacker who doesn't have a boyfriend to come and kiss her under said binding mistletoe, so she's stuck here forever?"

"You could always kiss Loki," Fitz suggested bluntly as the entire team shuddered in disgust. Skye pretended to hurl. Bobbi looked like she was going to actually puke.

"That's a whole new level of tactlessness," Jemma groaned. "I think we need to work on that."

"Sometimes I wonder how he got Simmons in the first place," Coulson muttered to May. "His social skills are awful."

"That's because hers are just as bad," she offered back, and the two of them stifled a chuckle as FitzSimmons glared at them in unison.

"NOSE GOES!" Mack and Tripp suddenly echoed, and every member of the Bus slapped their hands onto their noses, Natasha being quick enough to learn what was going on. She grabbed Steve's hand and shoved it onto his nose, despite his initial protests.

"WALL!" FitzSimmons finished, and they all scrambled towards the wall, May and Coulson throwing elbows in synchronization.

"Tripp, you lose," Coulson told him, jerking his head towards Skye, who was watching the interaction with an unimpressed look on her face. "You do it." The man looked absolutely nauseous at the thought.

"I'm insulted," Skye promptly informed him. "I'll have you know that I am _highly _kissable. There are plenty of people out there would be happy to inform you of such."

"Do I _want _to think about that statement?" Coulson asked nervously. May patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Try not to think about it too much."

"Why couldn't Mack do it?" Tripp whined. "He was right before me!"

"Well, I'd say he should do it, but, I mean, would you _really _want Mack to kiss Skye?" Bobbi hinted, smirking when Tripp turned red. "There we go. Point made."

"'Bout time you did something, mate," Hunter echoed. "You've been pining for weeks. I was about to lock you two in a room together and pitch the key." There was nothing said about he and Bobbi's drawn-out dance, finally coming to a head when Tripp had threatened to make Coulson kiss Bobbi should Hunter not make a move.

"Fine," he muttered, stalking over to where Skye was currently standing stock-still, her brown eyes widening. _This was so not happening. _There was absolutely no way anyone had known she had a crush on Tripp. _Unless..._ She narrowed her eyes at Jemma, who winced in response. Yup. Slowly, Skye drew a finger across her throat, signaling that there was most certainly going to be a death later. "This is going to be as uncomfortable for you as it is for me," he told her quietly. She tipped her eyes up to meet his.

"Why in the world would you think it would be uncomfortable?"

There was a cheer from the wall as the two kissed, softly at first but soon growing in intensity, Fitz going so far as to wolf-whistle, causing the both of them to flip him the bird. Coulson watched the two of them with a sense of satisfaction. _At least she'd found happiness,_ he mused. It really was too bad he couldn't say the same for the Asian woman standing beside him. She'd never really shown interest, despite his best efforts. He'd written it off as a lost cause. Didn't mean that he still wanted to punch something in frustration every now and then.

"You think they're going to be the next Hunter and Bobbi?" said woman asked, still smiling slightly at the couple under the mistletoe. "Or d'you think they're going to be more like FitzSimmons?"

"For my sanity, I hope it's the latter," he sighed. "I don't think we've got any more sanitary wipes." To Skye and Tripp, he yelled, "Make sure you move out of the mistletoe!" As they slowly moved out of sight, still lip-locked, he added, "And don't even think about going on the Bus!"

* * *

"There," Tony emphasized, plopping two laptops onto the kitchen island, where Clint was sipping a cup of coffee, exhausted from his encounter with Loki in his vents. "No holes this time. Go ahead. Hack it. See what you get through."

"You do realize I need Skye for this," he replied calmly, stirring the hot concoction. "And she's currently ensconced with Tripp at the moment. I'll hack it in a couple of hours and tell you about the holes you've got." At the look on Tony's face, he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Stark. Do you really expect to believe that your system's completely free of holes?"

"Of course I do!" Tony exclaimed huffily, turning on his heel and stalking out into the living room-

-only to be stopped right in its middle when he collided with an invisible wall of air. "HALP! SOMEONE! HALP! JARVIS!"

"I am afraid there is nothing I can do, sir," JARVIS' voice was tinged with amusement. "It seems to be another mistletoe contraption of Loki's, sir."

"No, really, J, I was wondering who the hell had confined me to eighty feet of space," Tony quipped dryly. He looked towards Clint pleadingly. "Hey, Legolas, wanna do me a favor here?" Instantly, Clint spit out his coffee.

"Hell no, Stark!"

"Not THAT, pinhead!" Tony himself looked slightly sick at the suggestion. "I meant find the damn sprig of mistletoe so that I can take it down once Pep gets here to kiss me," Clint trained his eyes on the ceiling, roaming the speckled tile until he spotted it. A small, pine-green sprig with two little red berries, sparkling with a golden mist, stuck to the ceiling. Hmph. He'd get it down later. After he got Pepper in the room to kiss the billionaire.

"Aw, look what Loki dragged in!" Skye hooted as she scampered into the room, looking thoroughly ruffled. "Or, rather, what the_ mistletoe _dragged in." She dramatically sniffed the air. "When was the last time _you _showered, Stark?" Clint wordlessly shoved a laptop in her direction. She delightedly logged in, and was soon immersed in the green and white screen, typing away at keys. He began to mirror her, with Skye letting out the occasional questioning noise with him grunting in response.

"Has anyone seen Tony-oh." Pepper hurried into the room, looking harried, and stopped short at the sight of Clint and Skye determinedly typing away at the kitchen island. "What's that smell?" The duo gestured to Tony in his mistletoe-confined space. It seemed that this sprig had come with a mute function, for the billionaire was making frantic gestures, mouthing soundlessly. Pepper was really at a loss for words.

"He is trapped until someone sees fit to kiss him," Loki explained, having happened upon to the confused CEO. "'Tis the tradition of Midgard-or so I had thought."

"Ew." Pepper wrinkled her nose in disgust. "No way I'm going to kiss_ you._ Especially when you smell like that. How are you two putting up with this?" Tony's mouth dropped open, and he fell to his knees silently begging some ethereal being for release.

"I'm not breathing through my nose," Skye answered shortly, hitting a long string of keys in rapid succession. "Yes-just one more-YES!" she cheered, earning a whoop from her hacking partner. "Stark," she said shortly, swiveling around on her stool to face Tony, "you've got even more holes in your system then you did before."

Tony's mouth dropped open.

"Reason number two why I'm not kissing you," Pepper sighed, turning to Skye. "Phil wants to see you, by the way. Something about the shovel talk, I think..." Clint let out a bark of laughter, prompting Skye to turn and scowl at him.

"As much as I'd love to leave Stark and make him suffer for the rest of the holidays, he's not a very pleasant addition to the living room," May announced, striding into the room with a large bucket filled with ice water. "I'd like to get rid of this mistletoe before we suffer any more..._casualties._ Skye, you're wanted with Coulson,"

"I know, I know, I'm _going_," Skye muttered as she stomped off, then stopped at the doorway. "Can I just see Stark get soaked first? _Please?_" She crossed her arms petulantly. "I'm not going until you do, AM." May heaved a sigh, stepping in, and raised the bucket over her head, fully determined to take a step back before she hurled the water, and nearly dropped it when she forcefully collided with an invisible wall.

Skye was out of the room in an instant. "AC! AC!"

* * *

"Can't we just take _one _more photo?" Jemma begged mercilessly, as a very disgusted Melinda May was flattened against the perimeter of the mistletoe's capture, trying to be as far away from Tony as possible. The entire group had gathered around the two of them, careful not to breach the circle, should they get stuck without anyone to kiss. Loki had shown up once again with a camera, this time intelligently taking pictures from a tripod. Above them, the mistletoe twinkled innocently with its golden light, teasing them.

"No more photos, guys," Coulson chided, although he himself was smiling at the prospect of Iron Man and the Cavalry being forced to occupy less than a hundred square feet of space. "Someone's gotta get Mel-I mean, May, out of the circle." At Bobbi's pointed look, he hastened to add, "Stark as well." He'd be damned should Mockingbird be the first one to blurt out his secret.

Tripp sighed. "There's really no other way to do this, is there?"

Mack shook his head. "Second round."

"NOSE GOES!" Clint shouted, beating the two to the punch and smacking a hand to his nose. Steve and Natasha followed, having learned from the last time.

"TV!" FitzSimmons shouted, startling everyone who had been inching towards the wall, expecting to have to slam against it. Pepper was the second-to-last one there, touching the TV a millisecond before an out-of-breath Coulson.

"Pepper, Coulson," Natasha gestured with her foot. "Since there's two of them in there, you have to kiss them."

"I'll give you ten bucks if I don't have to kiss Tony," Pepper begged. Tony silently _harrumphed _and crossed his arms. May's eyes bugged out and she turned away to fake heave as so not to insult Pepper.

Coulson chuckled. "You'd have to give me a _lot _more than that, Miss Potts." Slowly, he moved inside of the circle, then snatched the bucket and poured it over Tony's head in a flash. Loki had unmuted the circle, and the billionaire's screams were high-pitched enough to break glass.

"COULSON?! WHY?! WHATEVER DID I DO TO YOU?!" Outside the circle, couples were trading high-fives, save for Clint, Bruce, Mack, and Tripp, who simply burst into guffaws of laughter.

"Should I get the soap?" Natasha smirked, producing a bar out of seemingly nowhere and chucking it at May, who caught it in one hand and handed it off to Coulson. He began to scrub at Tony's face and hands, while Pepper went off to get another bucket of ice water. When she'd returned, Tony was covered in an appropriate amount of suds, frothing pink from head to toe. The bucket was slid past the boundary and over to Coulson, who picked it up and dunked it over Tony's head, prompting yet another scream as he shook himself off, hair flinging water everywhere.

"And that is why you'll never not shower again for a week," Pepper stepped in and quickly pecked Tony on the lips, dragging him out of the circle and out of the room, presumably towards a bathroom. It was only Coulson and May left in the circle, and the laughter died down, giving way to seriousness. Loki, in some form of humanitarian act, muted and shaded the circle so that no one could see inside, leaving the two best friends to hash out their own business. Much to the disappointment of the Bus team.

"Aw, come on, man, you're really not going to let us witness the Philinda ship sailing?"

* * *

"Why'd you step in?" May asked Coulson quietly, who was fiddling with the bucket, avoiding her gaze. "Why'd you step into the circle?"

"I would've thought you would've wanted me to," he answered in the same volume, still not meeting her gaze. "Would you rather have had someone else step in?" _If that was what she wanted, then by all means, he'd walk away and let someone else in. But there was no way in hell he was going to have missed the opportunity. _"I can get Natasha in here, if you want. Steve might not be so happy, but if that's what you want..."

"Phil." At the mention of his first name, Coulson looked up at May, who was still watching him with the same quiet intensity she'd had before. "You shouldn't have done it," she rushed instead, changing her words at the last minute. How was she supposed to tell him that she'd wanted him to step into the circle more than anything else? Not in their line of work. This kind of thinking was dangerous. But yet, she still dared to allow the thought into her head...

"And why the hell not, Mel?" He surged to his feet, closing the distance between them and backing her up against the invisible wall. Taking her chin in his hand, he whispered, "You're closing yourself off again. Let people in. Let _me _in. Because if you can't let anyone in, you're going to lead a very lonely life, Melinda May."

"I can't." Her voice cracked with the smallest hint of tears. "You know I can't, Phil, and you know _damn _well why. I'm as fucked up as Nat out there, probably even worse." She felt trapped and helpless, something she'd never hoped to feel, yet here she was, not wanting it to stop. And all because of the man in front of her.

"And look where it got her," Phil answered comfortingly, his blue eyes softening. "She's _happy, _Mel. _Happy._" He paused for a minute, thinking he'd pushed too far. "Don't you want that, too? Didn't you ever dream of being happy beyond your wildest dreams?"

"Are you willing to risk it, though?" she asked, barely believing that she was having this conversation with the man she considered her soulmate. "Are you willing to take all of it?"

"I've wanted it since day one," he confessed, lowering his head down. Their lips met, and happiness surged through May as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

She was finally home.

* * *

"Nat, we need to talk," Steve said somberly, as the sprig of mistletoe was finally taken down, the group departing full of chatter about Coulson and May, who had indeed gotten together during their time in the circle.

Natasha's heart nearly stopped at those words, but she turned to face him anyways, green eyes showing none of the tumultuous emotions running through her at that moment. "What about, Steve?"

"I-" He hesitated. "I need you to stay away from the mistletoe, Nat, okay?"

Hurt flared through the petite redhead. Did Steve not want to kiss her that badly? What had she done to warrant this? Natasha attempted to rack her brain over the events of the last few days, trying to figure out what she'd done. She found nothing. Absolutely nothing. Was he planning to break up with her? Had he really not been joking when he'd said the breakups were for Christmas? _If that's what he wants, I can walk away,_ she thought to herself. She was the Black Widow, for heaven's sake. She'd been through much more than a broken heart-surely this would hurt as much as taking out a diplomat. _I can do this. _"Yeah, sure, Steve. Whatever you want."

He squeezed her hands briefly before giving her a smile. "Thanks, Nat. I knew you'd understand."

And as he left the room, she found that she did. It wasn't _her_ he wanted to kiss under the mistletoe. _It was someone else_. Was he planning to bring in Sharon on Christmas Eve? Hill, maybe? Or any of the dates she'd set him up on back when she'd been too emotionless to admit her feelings-Natasha's head spun at all of the names flying through her head. Lauren. Marissa. Kaylie. Madison. Ashley. Cassidy. All of them better sounding than her own.

She curled up onto the couch and cried.

* * *

Natasha wasn't sure how long she'd been curled on the couch sobbing, but her eyes ached from crying, and her nose was stuffy from lack of tissues. She sat up, eyes bleary, and found Bobbi, May and Pepper perched on the other end of the couch, one watching her quietly, the other two drinking tea and reading a magazine.

"Here." May handed over a steaming cup of green tea in a red, white and blue mug. "I'm not really sure what's going on with you, Nat, but tea helps everything."

She took the patriotic mug in her hands, feeling them shake as she stared at it, trying not to tear up once more. "Thanks, Mel." She couldn't bring herself to drink the tea-which really wasn't a good sign. Natasha loved tea in every shape and form-that she wasn't drinking it was actually quite disconcerting.

"Dammit," Bobbi suddenly swore, plucking the mug from Natasha's hands. "May, I know you're the Cavalry and all, but you really are tactless sometimes." She leapt off of the couch and headed towards the kitchen, where the tinkling of mugs could be heard. The blonde returned with another mug in her hands, this time a familiar black-and-red hourglass etched onto it. "Better?" The redhead nodded gratefully, sipping at the tea, the hot drink allowing her to dissipate the last of her stuffy nose.

"So it _is_ that," Pepper concluded quietly to Bobbi over Natasha's head. She shook her head. "I'm going to _kill_ Steve."

"I hope you realize you're not going without both of us," May added, already checking her guns for bullets. Bobbi was firing up her batons, all the while checking to make sure she wouldn't take out a couple hairs in the murder. "You're going to need a weapon, Potts."

"I have my glare and threats of eviction. Isn't that already enough?"

Both spies looked at her like she'd been controlled by Loki. "Are you nuts?"

* * *

The three girls had left Natasha with a full pot of tea and her thoughts, proclaiming that 'they really would stay, (really, they would,) but they had a murder to commit and there were several loose ends to tie up before it occurred'. She was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window with her tea in her hands, watching the snow lightly fall upon the city, illuminated by the vibrant oranges, yellows and reds of the setting sun.

New York. The city that had survived a Chitauri attack. 9/11. A hurricane. The city of resilience, that managed to bounce back every single time it'd been hit. And, as she'd thought, maybe the city of love. Central Park, where she and Steve had once taken a horse-drawn carriage ride in the moonlight. The Statue of Liberty-she inwardly smiled to herself at the large piece of copper sitting in Tony's lab, weathering away. He'd still not replaced the piece he'd pissed on. Canal Street, where a fun afternoon had passed, Natasha and Steve having armed themselves with a thousand dollars in cash and had challenged the other to see who could get the most through bargaining with the vendors there. The High Line, where it was commonplace for one of them to find the other after a particularly bad mission, watching the sun rise on the city that never slept.

_Times Square._ Her gaze fell there last, knowing it would cause her the most pain. For one night, and one night only, Steve and Natasha had consented themselves to being airhead tourists (she wanting to drag him out, thinking that he would finally meet someone) and had toured the place. It was the night they'd gotten together.

_"That was awful," Steve exclaimed as he and Natasha emerged from M&amp;M World, each of them clutching large, yellow bags of merchandise. "I'm never going in there again."_

_"Aw, come on, Steve," She grinned at him, taking a moment to look into his sweet blue eyes. She'd been harboring a deep crush on the soldier for awhile, but hadn't said a word-there was no way he'd want her. "You seemed pretty happy at those M&amp;M machines."_

_"They didn't have as many colors as they did back then," he admitted with an adorable grin, one side of his mouth quirking up so that a dimple was present. "Not like they do now," He held up a hand of bags, which were filled with bags of candy for their team, all in different colors-red and gold for Tony, purple and black for Clint, purple and green for Bruce, and purple and gold for Thor. Steve had been delighted to find that his red, white and blue had already been its own color combo, filling two whole bags of the candy before Natasha had teasingly reminded him that they only lived a few streets down. _

_"You know, we still haven't gone to the Ripley's," she'd mused, checking over her map. "And we've got the Avengers discount-apparently we're weird and unusual."_

_"Well, if they saw the weekly whipped cream chugging contest, they'd probably think we were weirder," Steve had snorted. "I still don't get how Barton manages to get a whole banana into his mouth. Sideways." _

_"Lima. Don't mention it," was all she'd said, before dashing across the street in true New Yorker fashion, narrowly missing being hit by several cars in the process. Steve had sprinted after her in worry, nearly dropping several of their bags in order to catch up._

_"Don't ever do that to me again!" he'd exclaimed as he'd caught up with her on the other side, the two of them now in front of the neon Ripley's sign. She simply shrugged coyly and slid Tony's credit card across the slot, the boy behind the counter inhaling sharply as he processed their tickets. _

_"And d'you think we could get some storage for all this?" She gestured to the bags from M&amp;M World, the Disney Store, and Madame Tussaud's. The guy had bobbed his head up and down, nearly smacking his head on the door in his haste to get out and store their backs behind the booth. "Thanks." She turned to Steve, who was still frowning at her. Leaning in, she whispered, "You only live once, you know."_

* * *

_They'd ambled through the exhibits, stopping to see if they could crinkle their tongues (Steve couldn't, Natasha could, a fact that she didn't let up on for a good half hour), and to marvel at the gargantuan objects made out of the tiniest things._

_"Who has enough money to make a Buddha statue out of shredded bills?" Steve murmured in awe. _

_"Tony," they'd answered in unison._

* * *

_"Is that really Obama made out of gumballs?"_

_"Looks like Putin to me. But if you tilt your head sideways-" Natasha had, almost ninety degrees. "-it kind of looks like Bruce."_

_"Does not." Steve had tilted his head sideways to match the spy's, and was squinting at it like a scientist would a microscope. "Looks more like Tony, really."_

_"Don't tell him you said that. His ego's big enough as it is."_

_"Don't need to tell me that again."_

* * *

_"Not sure if I can do this," Natasha mumbled nervously at the giant swirling tunnel, its neon lights swirling in circles. The people already in the tunnel were stumbling around as if they were drunk, shrieking with excitement. "Don't like swirly things."_

_"Come on, Nat, you can do it," Steve had encouraged her, her hand numbly finding his. He squeezed it in support as they stood at the bridge's beginning, Natasha already feeling the faintness coming on. _

_"I can't do it, Steve, I can't." She had already begun to shake a little. He drew her into his arms then, blue eyes meeting a fearful green as their faces were centimeters apart._

_"You only live once." he told her, echoing her words from before. _

_"That was different-" she'd begun to protest before Steve had kissed her with all of the passion of his seventy years asleep, so much that Natasha hadn't noticed he'd swept her up and had carried her across the bridge, much to the shock of the visitors already on it. Their lips broke apart as he set her down on the other side, she rendered speechless by what had just transpired. _

_"Gotten over your fear of swirly things?"_

_"I think you may have to do that again. Just to make sure, you know?"_

_He gladly had._

* * *

The tears were starting up again. Natasha swiped madly at her eyes to try and dispel them, sniffing instead as she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. Sighing, she started towards the kitchen, only to collide with an invisible barrier, tea nearly spilling onto her oversized green sweatshirt. The slow realization stole upon her, and she glared up into the vent where she knew Loki was hiding, safe from Clint's vengeance at the moment.

"Come on. You could at least give me the teapot." Said teapot hovered from the kitchen island gently towards the barrier, dropping to the ground with a slight _thunk_ and scraping across the floor to her. Another steaming cup was poured, and Natasha returned to staring out the window, not even caring that she was stuck under the mistletoe. After all, it wasn't like she had anyone to come get her out. Perhaps being alone under the damn sprig was what was best for her. At least until New Year's rolled around. Loki was bound to let up then...right?

Another sigh. She'd probably have to move out after this. The memories would be too much for her to handle. There was no way she could wake up, day after day, to the thought of everything she'd shared with Steve in the tower. It would crush her, no matter how much she could vehemently deny it. She wouldn't be able to take Tony's ribbing, or Clint's constant presence, needing to know what was going on. They would remind her of the one man who possessed the qualities of both of them put together, and was somehow better than both even at their best. Someone who-

"Nat?"

Steve's voice penetrated the silence of the living room and Natasha's thoughts. With a shift in her body language, she acknowledged he was there, but didn't make any move to turn towards him. "I wouldn't come any closer. I'm stuck under the mistletoe." She was addressing the window more than him, she knew, but couldn't bring herself to turn around and begin the beginning of the end.

"I _told_ you not to go under the mistletoe!" he exclaimed, easily stepping into the space next to her, disregarding everything about the circle. "Why, Natasha? Why?"

"I should be asking you the same thing!" Suddenly full of anger and tears, she whirled around to face him, almost colliding with his chest upon realizing how close he was. "Do you not want to kiss me that badly, Steve? Do you already have that other woman lined up somewhere on another floor to kiss? Is that why you told me not to go?"

"No, Nat! It's not like that, it's-"

"What is it, then, Steve?" She'd never felt more insecure in her life, deathly afraid that her entire world was about to come crashing down on her. "What is it?" Betrayal shone freshly in her emerald eyes, raw emotion threatening to implode from her normally controlled exterior. Seeing the conclusion written on her face, Steve hurriedly moved to tuck back a lock of her hair.

"Nat. It's not anything like that!" He took the sobbing Natasha into his arms, gently taking the cup of tea out of her hands. "Why would I ever pick another woman over you?"

"The Black Widow knows everything about men," she admitted softly. "Natasha Romanoff knows next to nothing."

"Oh, Nat," he crooned, tightening his arms around her. "I suppose it's my fault partially, of course. I should've been better about this."

"Better about what?"

"I was going to do this before, but now is a good time as any. I didn't want to do it under the mistletoe because it seemed so cliché," he sighed. She held her breath, preparing for the worst, while Steve took a few steps back, inhaling deeply.

"Nat, when I first met you, I was lost, trying to find a place in the world. Everything was so different than I was used to, and I had no one to turn to. You brought me out of the depression and into the real world. To this day, there's no one I'd rather have by my side, on and off the field. Now, I'm not that good with words, but..." It was Steve's turn to be nervous. "I've figured out for quite a while that there's only one person that I want to spend the rest of my life with. Sometimes, I like to think that I crashed into the ice for a reason -so that I could wait the seventy years and meet them. That person's you, Natasha." Hope brimmed in his blue eyes as he watched her mouth fall open slightly, realizing just what was going on. Steve sank down onto one knee, taking her hands into his. "Natalia Alianova Romanova, will you do me the ultimate honor of marrying me?"

The sudden turnaround in emotion was too much for Natasha, who suddenly teared up for different reasons, turning away from Steve. "Goddammit, Rogers."

"I get it, Nat," he sighed. She didn't want to marry him. She knew he'd taken too big of a step in doing so. He hoped that they could go back to what they were after this. "I-I shouldn't have asked."

"You've got it all wrong," she laughed quietly, letting the tears flow freely this time. "I'd be an idiot not to marry you," Relief flowed across Steve's face, then joy as he picked her up and twirled her around in a circle, smiling all the while. He put her down then, drawing a box out of his pocket, opening it and sliding the ring onto her left hand. It was intricately cut, with red, white, blue and black diamonds inside of two bordering platinum bands, each facet sparkling individually. She couldn't help but gasp. The beauty of it was really everything she wasn't. Didn't deserve to be.

But apparently, she wasn't the only shocked one.

Pepper and Clint had been watching worriedly from the door, having been alerted to Natasha's situation earlier and being determined to right things. At a glimpse of the ring, Pepper squealed, dragging an openmouthed Clint out of the room. "NOW, BARTON!"

"Was that just Pepper?" Steve asked distractedly, still staring at his fiancée. The ring sparkled amiably on her left hand, and he held onto it, as if it were a dream.

"I don't care," Natasha answered, already snuggling into his chest. "Love you." She threw the words freely now with him, but it still warmed Steve to hear them.

"Love you too."

* * *

**ROMANOGERS. OMG THE FEELS WHAT :) Pretty please read and review! This one took such a lonf time, haha. Best review gets Nat's ring! :D**

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS! :D**


	20. BONUS: Bruce and Flappy Bird

**AGH! So I realize that it IS Sunday...late Sunday.. (ish, anyways) but I was out yesterday at the science museum and there was a really cool Mayan exhibit and none of you want to hear that so sorry... :)**

**Shoutout to Purpleheartthebrave, Laura T, and SwifteForeverAndAlways for following!**

**AND I'M SO HAPPY TO GIVE THIS ONE OUT :D To that guest who's always constant- ErinKenobi2893-okay, so you didn't want the ring, so I'll give you the picture of Nat and Steve trying to crinkle their tongues at the Ripley's exhibit!**

* * *

The clear sound of gunshots echoed through the tower, three bullets rapidly finding a new home in the off-white alabaster wall. No one flinched-after all, stray bullets usually meant Natasha was pissed. And a pissed Natasha meant 'drop everything and hide unless you valued your life'.

Which meant, of course, that Tony chose that exact moment to come out of his lab for fresh air, only to find Natasha staring at her phone, which had been pinned to the living room wall. With bullets.

"Now now now, Natashalie," Tony lightly scolded, totally unaware of the present danger. "That's the third StarkPhone in a month. Don't make me downgrade you to a Nokia. That would suck for you as much as it would for me."

She leveled the gun at him. "Do you want to go the same way as the phone, Stark? Because that can easily be arranged."

"CLEAR THE ROOM!" Clint ran in screaming, waving his arms dramatically. "TASHA FOUND FLAPPY BIRD!" He stopped abruptly at the sight of Tony facing down the barrel. "NEVER MIND! EVERYONE IN! TONY'S GONNA GET SHOT!"

"Natasha," Steve's voice was already exasperated from the elevator, sighing. "This is the third time you've threatened to shoot Tony this week. What did we say about threatening Tony?" She glared irritably at him, lowering her gun and putting it back into her holster.

"Yes, I know, there's 'no threatening him more than three times a week'." she grumbled at him. "But that was the final goal. I'm working on toning it down gradually. _Very_ gradually. Besides, that's his first time this week."

"Tasha, you threatened him on Tuesday because he tried to dye your shampoo pink," Clint sighed. "Then on Thursday when he ate your cookie." Natasha pouted. It wasn't her fault for having a weakness for Nutella cookies. Who would've known Stark would have tried to throw them out a window?

"All I have to do is not threaten him for the rest of the week and I'm golden. It is Friday, after all."

"What is this thing you call 'Flappy Bird'?" Thor questioned. "And why does Lady Natasha seem so aggravated over it?"

"It's a game," Tony quickly answered before someone else could offer a basic version. "You have to tap the phone screen and make a bird fly through pipes, only the developer was a dumbass with no sense of spatial awareness and made the damn bird crash into just about every pipe it has. It's honestly one of the worst games ever invented."

"And, yet, so addicting that we've got the _Black Widow_ addicted to the damn thing and shooting her phone to the wall," Steve clarified. "Is this some kind of reverse psychology or something?"

"No," Natasha ran her hands through her bright red hair in frustration. "Hill bet me that I couldn't get my score past thirty. And that was two weeks ago." She glared at the small phone pinned to the wall, scowling at it. "It's always twenty-nine before the damn thing crashes into the pipe. Same one. Every. Single. Time."

"Apparently, there's a pool about who's going to get to a hundred first," Clint supplied helpfully. "Word has it that Coulson's well on his way to fifty."

"Fifty?" Natasha swore in Russian. "Блин! And I have to go get a new phone!"

"You can bet on that," Tony snorted. "That's the third one this month. No way I'm making you another one, Natashalie."

"Here, take mine," Steve offered, handing over his own. "I don't really have a use for it, anyways." Natasha took the patriotically colored object, feeling it was specially made with the super-soldier in mind. She hefted it. Definitely seemed bulletproof. Or maybe it was shatterproof, for when Steve got too frustrated with his own idiodicy with technology...In an instant, Flappy Bird was downloaded, and she wasted no time tapping away, gnashing her teeth together as the yellow pixelated bird crashed into yet another pine green pipe.

The entire team watched in shock as she, completely immersed in the game, walked into a wall.

* * *

"Tony? What are you doing, exactly?" Steve asked as he was let into the lab after some threats of unleashing Pepper. "You haven't come out of the lab for three days. Do you remember what happened the last time you spent three days in the lab?

Tony, perched on a lab stool, coffee cups surrounding him, was staring at a large image projected onto the lab wall, lines of code written next to it. "Just one more hour, Capsicle!" he complained. "I've almost got it right!" Muttering feverishly, he typed in some lines on a wireless keyboard, frowning as he deleted another three characters. "Dammit, that's _definitely _not it if the damn bird's got a purple nose..."

For the first time, Steve stared at the bright image on the wall. A large yellow bird, bopping between green pipes... The answer hit him instantly. "Tony, you're not trying to play a giant-scale version of Flappy Bird, are you?"

"Of course not!" the scientist exclaimed, scoffing. "Didn't you hear me call the thing a piece of crap earlier? No, Stevie, my boy, I'm going to reinvent this thing! Kill it, then bring it back to life so that it's better than before! After this,_ no one's _going to be able to lose!" There was an intermittent _beep _as an error box popped up onto the screen. Grumbling, Tony tapped several keys in succession, backspacing and editing until he was once again satisfied.

"Ookay..." Steve trailed off, backing slowly towards the door. "I'm going to get Pepper, Natasha, or both, okay, Tony? You're obviously running on about three hours of sleep in 72 hours..." He squinted once again at the code projected onto the dark wall. Were people supposed to actually _understand _that? He shook his head. Still a lot to learn about this day and age, apparently.

"Natasha?" he called as he emerged onto the main floor, momentarily blinded by the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. "I need you to..." He stopped short and blinked at the sight of the red-headed assassin sprawled out across the couch, madly tapping away at her-_his_, he reminded himself-phone. A crash emanated from the phone's speaker, and she let out a strangled half-scream, clearly resisting the urge to chuck the borrowed phone against the wall. Seeing Steve in the corner of her eye, she twisted herself up into a sitting position, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

"Yes, Steven?" He resisted the urge to roll his eyes; Natasha was the only one who called him that, despite his numerous attempts to convince her otherwise.

"I kind of need you to-"

"Is it a world crisis?"

"No, but it's a sit-"

"Does some fat, balding greasy, corrupt political leader need killing? Which, you know I can't do because Stark took out my hair and all last month **(See Braiding Thor's Beard.)**, so tell Fury I'm out."

"I don't know, I haven't talked to Fury about missions, but Natasha, I really need you to-"

"Does Clint have his ass stuck in the vents again?"

Steve took the time to ponder that one and its likelihood. Considering the amount of times they'd had to get copious amounts of petroleum jelly this month, that one might actually be true, but..._Focus, Rogers! _"That may or may not be true, but it's not that, I need you to-"

"Then don't bother me." She turned back to the phone, beginning to tap away at it once again. She'd already sworn twice by the time he'd left the room.

He luckily ran into Pepper in the elevator, sighing heavily. "Miss Potts, do you think you could give me a hand?"

"I would, but there's this presentation Tony's got to give in half an hour for the monthly board meeting and I can't find him anywhere, much less drag him out from wherever the hell he is and make him look presentable and-" Pepper stopped. "Wait. Did you call me 'Miss Potts'?" She leveled a disapproving glare at the super soldier. "Steve, what did I say about calling me 'Miss Potts'?"

"That doing so would put me on grocery duty for the next five weeks," Steve recited, more habit than anything, then facepalmed. She might not have told him so, but Natasha was due in Mexico in three days, and every time she came back from somewhere even _remotely _Spanish, let alone Mexico, she would refuse to eat nothing but Chipotle for a month. His wallet would certainly take a beating. Desperate times called for desperate measures. "Look," He straightened up and looked right at Pepper. "Miss-Pepper," he corrected himself hastily, lest he be stuck with _ten _weeks, "I can help you with your predicament if you'll allow me to skive off of the grocery punishment."

"Think of you helping me as an act of goodwill," she smirked, and he groaned. "Have you seen Tony?"

"But Natasha's going to Cozumel in three days!"

"Of which I am plenty aware," Pepper grinned. "Now, would you care to tell me where Tony is? I can make sure Nat orders extra chips and guac every time she has Chipotle when she gets back."

"That won't be necessary," he told her hastily. "That's actually what I needed your help with. Tony's in the lab and I can't get him out." She huffed, annoyed, and jabbed the button leading to the lab, the elevator beginning its descent.

"Can't the man even keep track of his own social functions every now and then?"

"I thought that's what he had you for," he answered, straight-faced.

BOOM.

The elevator doors opened to a smoking lab, the only light coming from a sizable flame on the counter, and a frazzled Tony turned to the both of them, hair and beard singed.

"Cap! You're back!" he exclaimed weakly. "So I accidentally kind of blew up the system that I was working with earlier, and now the lab's kind of out of commission for the next couple of days, so could you possibly explain that to Brucie?"

Steve said nothing, only stepped aside to reveal Pepper's lasered glower. Tony visibly shrank back from her glare, wincing. She stepped into the charred lab, arms crossed, with her heels clicking on the floor.

"Anthony. Edward. Stark." Her voice was icy, holding none of the concern she'd expressed to Steve just thirty seconds ago. "Would you mind telling me where the _hell _you've been for the last 72 hours?"

"Trying to beat Flappy Bird?"

All in all, it _probably _wasn't the best answer.

* * *

"Steve!" Bruce ran up to him as he emerged from the elevator, looking harried. "I'm so glad I found you, Clint's-"

"NOT THERE, TASHA, THE OTHER SIDE!"

"-got his ass stuck in the vents again." he finished lamely.

"Again?" Steve groaned to himself, then readdressed Bruce. "How much petroleum jelly do we have?"

The doctor winced. "That's just the thing. We don't _have _any more. I'm banned from going out on any more scouting trips since the aspirin incident, Natasha refuses to leave the building because she's playing Flappy Bird, and Clint-well, you know. I can't find Pepper anywhere, and Hill would kill me if she knew Clint got his ass stuck for the third time this month, and Fury-let's not talk about Fury."

Steve sighed. "I'll do it. Be back in thirty."

* * *

All in all, it was a very uneventful trip, he found. No one questioned why Steve was buying enough petroleum jelly to fill a swimming pool, he didn't get attacked by any fangirls (perhaps it was the jelly,), and the whole thing was done in less than twenty minutes.

Now, getting Clint out of the vents, on the other hand...

"I did it the last time," Natasha whined lazily, one eye straying toward Steve's borrowed phone, which he'd taken back for the quick trip. "Isn't it Bruce's turn?"

"I absolutely refuse to touch that," Bruce answered, glancing up at the stuck archer. "No offense, Clint."

"None, taken, Bruce. Besides, Tasha already did-with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole." Clint glared at the spy from his forty feet up. "She poked me in the ribs."

"Someone remind me how we did this _last _time?" Steve wondered.

"We had Tony," Natasha said flatly, still staring at the phone in mild longing. "He pretty much just pulled Barton out of the hole after firing jelly at him with his repulsors."

"Right, well, someone's going to have to go up there and pour the jelly on his...lower half," Steve began. "Then we're going to have to pull him out or up from the vent."

"The blood's rushing to my head!" Clint wailed, arms flailing.

"Only means we need to put you on a better diet, Barton," Bruce muttered, shaking his head. "One that _isn't _made up of donuts, coffee and beer." Steve and Natasha snickered. "I supposed we'll have to play to see who has to get Barton out of the vent?"

"Yup." Natasha popped the 'p'. "Shall we do it the old-fashioned way?"

"What's the old fashioned way?" Clint cried. "Is it quick? Is it going to get me of here?"

"Monopoly!" Bruce crowed. "I'll get the board game." He rushed off, and the two of them traded glances with each other.

"If I didn't know better, I would actually think he _purposely _tries to get Clint stuck in the vents so we would play with him," Steve sighed.

* * *

"You owe me rent," Natasha sighed for the fortieth time as Steve's thimble landed on her _Park Place_. "And I've got three houses and a hotel,"

He sighed, equally bored as she was with the game. "I'm bankrupt."

"And that's the game," Bruce sighed disappointedly, having gone bankrupt an hour ago. Slowly, he cleaned up the paper money, cards, and game pieces, as if somehow hoping Steve and Natasha would challenge him to another game. They didn't. "Rock, paper scissors it is, then, Steve." Making the obligatory fists, the two of them played until Bruce displayed a flat palm to Steve's closed fist. "I'll get the jelly for you."

"Finally!" Clint echoed from the ceiling. "I've been up here for three hours!"

"Not our fault!" Steve echoed back, frustrated. "How'd you get stuck in the vents, anyways?"

"...There was a little bird...and some green pipes..."

When he made it up there, Steve made sure to smack the archer out of the vent's opening. _Without _applying petroleum jelly.

* * *

"All I'm saying is, Thor, _please _don't."

"But why not, Friend Rogers? It seems to be quite the Midgardian pastime, this Flappy Bird!"

"Just _please _don't, Thor. I've already had to get Clint out of the vents, Natasha's shot the wall, Tony's blown up the lab..." He could only imagine what Thor would do should he get too enraged with the little yellow frustration of the week. At best, it would probably involve some broken windows, walls, and a lot of paperwork. At worst...he didn't want to think about it. Steve turned to Jane, who was decidedly trying her hardest not to get involved with the situation. "Jane...help?"

Apparently, whatever sob stories had been going around about his long three weeks with Natasha's Chipotle craving had been quite the tear-jerker, for she softened, nodded, and took Thor's arms, murmuring to him gently about all of the things they had yet to do in New York, thankfully taking the subject off of Flappy Bird.

As soon as they disappeared around the corner, Steve sagged against the wall, sighing in relief. That little app had caused him more trouble that Clint on a mission in Europe. It really was hard to believe that Natasha had only shot the wall two weeks ago (and had just returned an hour ago, declaring her want for a steak burrito with spicy salsa. And, of course, the extra chips and guacamole. He was going to get Pepper back for _that_).

Thank goodness he'd gotten off easy with Thor. And Bruce had enough sense not to get the game for his phone...most of the time. If the Hulk downloaded it, there was nothing to be said. _He _certainly wasn't going to get it. Besides, Natasha still had his phone. That is, if she hadn't destroyed it. He'd certainly take that out of her Chipotle funds.

Suddenly, a roar shook the Tower, and Clint came staggering into the room, still holding his behind. Turns out that smacking someone forty feet out of a vent leaves burn marks. Marks that the archer still hadn't gotten over, apparently. Tony and Natasha followed him, identical looks of worry lining their faces.

Natasha _never _worried.

"Thor tried to convince Bruce to play Flappy Bird," Tony gasped as the building shook again. That was enough for Steve. He marched over to the elevator and hit the button for the lab, the other three Avengers following him, shouting various obscenities.

"What the _fuck _are you doing, Steven Grant-"

"You're going to get killed down there, Cap-"

"If this is about me getting stuck in the vents because of the damn app-"

"Try not to do that again, will you, Clint?" was all the super soldier said before the elevator doors slid shut, leaving a shocked Tony, Clint and Natasha in their wake.

"Fury is going to _kill _us."

"Bury our bodies so that no one can find us." The two of them looked at Natasha to complete their doom, but she just shrugged, checking her nails.

"He won't kill me. I'm too good to be killed."

* * *

"Really, Hulk?" Steve demanded as he strode into the now-repaired lab, where a Hulked-out Bruce Banner was breathing heavily, staring at a small device on the ground. "You just _had _to go and get Flappy Bird, didn't you? It wasn't enough that you saw Clint get stuck in the vent, Tony blow up the lab, and Natasha shoot the wall, huh? No, you just _HAD _to go and get the app. And play it. Knowing completely well that it would frustrate you? I thought you were better than this! I thought you knew better to take advice from Thor, of all people! You know how is about stuff like this! "

"Bird crash into pipe. Hulk try hard. Bird no follow. Bird make Hulk angry." was the monster's only explanation, still glaring at Steve.

"I thought I wouldn't have to warn you about getting Flappy Bird, but nooooooo, apparently, I have to apply the same warning to you as I do everyone else!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "And it looks like I have to apply the warning to you first, because you can't learn from others!"

"Hulk want to know. Hulk no see problem with bird. Hulk see when too late."

"Fine, you can be excused, but I know Bruce is inside there somewhere!" Steve was really on a tangent now, having had to put up with the entire team's antics. "And _you_, Bruce Banner, I am HEARTILY disappointed in! As a matter of fact, when the Hulk's done losing it, I'm confining you to your room for two weeks! That's right! Fourteen days!" he pointed when the Hulk looked at him in surprise. "And I'm going to have JARVIS set Hulk protocol to your room in case you Hulk out during your time in solitary, and Clint will bring you food, and I'm going to have Tony take out all the movies..."

"_Is he serious?" Tony asked Clint and Natasha. The three of them were watching from the control room. "Is he SERIOUSLY talking about putting the Hulk-the Hulk, mind you-into time-out? What the hell is he thinking?"_

"_Someone's been reading the parenting books lately," Clint snickered. "Must be from having to deal with Stark all the time." _

"_More like the both of you," Natasha sniped back, effectively shutting the both of them up. _

"...you're not going to be doing ANY sort of scientific experiments during those two weeks, NO ONE is coming to visit you, no matter HOW much you beg Tony, and no, I'm going to be taking away your tea. That's right, Bruce, YOUR TEA."

"Hulk want tea!"

"You know what you did, Bruce. And I'm SICK and TIRED of having to pick up after ALL of you after you play Flappy Bird, and I've had ENOUGH! You hear me? TWO WEEKS. NO TEA. NO FRIENDS. Got it?"

"Hulk get." Slowly, the rage monsters shrunk back down to the meek scientist, who picked his StarkPhone off of the ground. "Good thing Stark made his phone screen shatterproof." He looked at Steve, who was still glaring at him, albeit slightly more softly. "Wanna reconsider the tea thing?"

"Nope."

* * *

"Has anyone seen Steve?" Natasha asked, wandering into the living room the next day. "I need his phone. I have another twenty-four hours before I have to pay Hill, and my new Samsung's not supposed to come in for another five days."

"You bought a Samsung, Natashalie?" Tony complained, not looking up from his drink. Pepper had made sure he would never play Flappy Bird again by making him stand out on the roof wearing a t-shirt that said 'I HEART FLAPPY BIRD'. Tony had yet to live down the incident-and the media wouldn't let him do it for a long time. "I'm offended. I'm so much better than the Japanese, and you know it."

"You wouldn't give me a new phone, so whatever, Stark."

"I doubt he's visiting Banner," Clint snorted, sticking his tongue out as his bird crashed into yet another pipe. "After all, he _was _the one that delivered that wonderful speech about time-outs." At that point, there was a loud exclamation of 'DAMMIT!' accompanied by the unique sound of vibranium hitting plaster. It was followed by a long string of expletives that had each Avenger's jaw dropping.

"He's not..." Tony began.

"He possibly couldn't be..." Clint tried to add.

Natasha didn't answer. She just strode off towards the elevator. Soon enough, her tirade could be heard through the vents.

"STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! HOW DARE YOU DOWNLOAD THAT APP! I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF YOU'D BROKEN THE CEILING! YOU WAIT UNTIL THE MEDIA GETS HOLD OF THIS, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT TONY, CLINT AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE HEARD YOUR SHIELD HIT THE CEILING AND FIGURED OUT YOU WERE PLAYING THAT DISGUSTING GAME! WE GOT A LETTER FROM THE PRESIDENT YESTERDAY ABOUT TONY AND THE ROOF INCIDENT, I THOUGHT TONY WOULD DIE OF SHAME, SHIELD DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO ACT LIKE THIS, WE ALL THOUGHT YOU COULD'VE DIED! I'M ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED, WE'LL HAVE TO FACE AN INQUIRY AS TO WHY WE HAVE TO CALL IN SO MANY REPAIRS, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE I'LL SEND YOU STRAIGHT TO COULSON'S BUS TEAM!"

Bruce, seeing no Steve in the vicinity, stuck his head out of a vent. "What happened?"

* * *

**Review? Pleeeeaase? I'll give the best one Bruce's confiscated tea! **

**I am now going to take the opportunity to tell you to check out my **_**other **_**story, "Beyond the Frost"! Frozen/Avengers crossover, which I did mention a couple of weeks ago. The first chapter is up, and I hope whoever does go read it follows it, too! :)**

**Again, sorry that it's late :( I'm trying, I really am. And bonus points to whoever got that last reference!**


	21. Paintball AND Nerf gun wars

**...*emerges meekly from corner* I hope everyone had a great New Year...? **

**It's exam season. A _really, really _long exam season. As in, from January to June. Because there are these ugly things called midterms, the SAT, AP exams, SAT subject tests, and finals. Which means that updates may not be as on point as they used to be. Hopefully they show up once a weekend, but not on a specific weekend day. Just warning you guys now. **

**Shoutout to Sorcha Annysia, .fanfiction, Le tueur silencieux and Rated PG-13 for following!**

* * *

Bruce stared uneasily at the clock. 11:59 AM and nothing had happened yet. If it hit 12:00, he could officially say that they'd made it to noon without incident. And considering how prone _certain _members of the team were prone to trouble, that could only mean one thing: something bigger than usual was going to happen.

12:00.

"We made it to noon without anything happening," Steve said in wonder, joining Bruce over at the clock, his brow furrowing. "I can't believe we made it to noon. How'd we make it to noon? Especially with all of that drinking Tony did last night..."

"Because with hangovers come genius ideas!" Tony exclaimed, walking into the living room, a Nerf gun in his hand. "And this one, I tell you, was too impossible to pass up!" He did a quick draw at Steve, who reflexively swatted at the Nerf dart aimed at his head. "I've been modifying these Nerf darts so that they stuck like the plungers, and I finally did it!"

"Tony, we are _not _starting another war," Bruce told him, already knowing that this was going to turn out badly. "Besides, we've already been banned from wars in the tower, on the Helicarrier, and on the Quinjets. Where _else _can you have a war?"

The billionaire gestured to the window at the wide expanse of the city. "In the streets, of course! Fury said absolutely _nothing _about the streets! And I've already brought this up to Natashalie and Legolas. They're prepping for the great Paintball and Nerf gun war of 2015!"

"No _wonder _I haven't heard a peep out of them all morning," Bruce said, comprehension beginning to dawn on his face. "And here I was, foolishly thinking that they were just nursing really bad hangovers..." Of course, as soon as he said it, he realized just how stupid a statement like that was. Clint, maybe, would have a bad hangover, but he was pretty sure that wasn't even _in _Natasha's vocabulary. There really was no fighting this. "And Thor?"

"Oh yeah, Point Break's in this, too," Tony shrugged. "He went off to Asgard, claiming that he'd come back in time for the war because he needed Asgardian weapons for it." Bruce and Steve exchanged looks. It was bad enough that the resident assassins were being challenged to a war that required them to use their skill set, but Asgardian technology just _begged _for a city-wide incident. "The war starts at thirteen hundred hours," he continued cheerfully. "I'd best get ready to have your ass whooped, Capsicle."

* * *

"I gave you _three _hours to go to Asgard and come back, and _this _is what you return with?" Tony demanded of Thor, who was standing in the tower's lobby with a large penguin Pillow Pet. "A _Pillow Pet_?"

"It is a symbol of my love to the penguin!" Thor exclaimed, hugging it tightly. "Beside, if I am ambushed by Lord Barton or Lady Romanoff, they are more likely to hit the penguin than I, resulting in an escape from death! Besides, Mjolnir is perfectly capable of serving as a weapon in this war. It has the capability of shooting both your upgraded darts as well as your colored balls of paint."

"Whatever you say, man," Clint mumbled, fiddling with his Nerf crossbow. It was a lethal yet childish looking bow, with gray sides and a large red-and-yellow shooter in the middle. "I still think the bow is the way to go." He and Natasha had been the only ones smart enough to get extra vests to hold their ammunition-one of the reasons why both of them looked so calm and collected, while Steve was trying to cram as many Nerf darts as he could into his pockets, muttering feverishly the whole time.

"Says the man who once got incapacitated by a monkey and a giraffe because the monkey stole his bow," Natasha snorted. She, in true Black Widow fashion, had opted for the traditional guns, a blue, white and orange Nerf with a large barrel on her left, and a sleek 11mm pistol on her right, painted a threatening silver. She'd taken one step further than Clint, though, and wore both a vest and ammunitions belt, both stocked full with darts and paintballs.

"I need to hear that story," Steve snorted, then huffed as several darts fell out of his pocket. "If I'd known that they made belts, I would've bought one before the start of this war. Would've saved me so much trouble right now." In retrospect, carrying as much ammo as he was was kind of foolish, as his Nerf gun held six cartridges' worth of darts-he wasn't likely to run out anytime soon. In fact, his gun was something more akin to machine gun than a pistol, but still sporting the traditional blue and orange colors.

"Are we good? I've been watching Capsicle shove darts into his pockets for ten minutes," Tony snorted, still internally laughing at Steve trying to shove ammo into his pockets. He'd equipped his Iron Man suit for the occasion (of course, no one knew that) and had already sent out a little octopus-like creature into the streets, who would shoot Nerf darts at people when he commanded it to. He regretted to say that it wasn't of his own design-damn toy companies had already beat him to it. "Five points a person, lose five if you hit someone already hit, and you get shot by a paintball, you're out. And why am I not surprised about the giraffe?"

* * *

**Clint (Central Park)**

"Central Park, Legolas?" Tony inquired of the archer, who was already scanning the area for a suitable tree to climb into. "Well, don't we think alike?" The man was strolling through the park without so much as a care, as if he expected to win the war just by smiling at someone. Well, the man was Tony Stark, Clint reasoned. It was possible that such a thing could happen. All the more reason why he needed to win this war. That, and to save his ego from the _last _war, when he'd accidentally shot all of Thor's conquests. Natasha _still _wouldn't let him live that down.

"I won't shoot you if you won't shoot me," Clint muttered out of the corner of his mouth, still looking around for the perfect hideout. There. Right in the corner, with a nice, steady trunk and the perfect amount of foliage. Completely ignoring the blabbering going on by Tony, he started towards the tree, sizing it up and beginning to determine how exactly he'd make it up. The _last _time he'd been up a tree, there'd been a giraffe trying to get at him and a monkey with his beloved bow and arrow in hand. Of course, there weren't any animals in close proximity trying to end him, but the zoo _was _some distance away...Casting a glance around to make sure there wasn't anyone but Tony following him, he wrapped two arms around the tree, using his feet for leverage as he scrambled up the tree.

_Ah, that was better. _Quietly, he notched a dart into his crossbow, centering on his first target of the day. _Someone really should tell that woman that neon colors were soo back in the 1980's_. He would know, having once spent two weeks undercover in a camp dedicated to reviving the 80's. It was one of the only times he'd seen both Natasha and May wear something other than black, and he'd made sure to get _plenty _of pictures.

_Zup. _The woman didn't even flinch as Clint's dart connected with her neon-clad back, instead choosing to adjust the music on her iPhone and keep walking. Next up was the man who was blathering away on his cell phone while his young daughter forlornly looked at her balloon animal, seemingly saddened by the fact that her father had chosen work over her. The idiot who was harrassing his girlfriend on the park bench. Then the girl, for sticking with him for who knew how long. The two teenaged girls walking up the way, gossiping about the recent New Year's party in loud and obnoxious tones. "Like, OMG, they were _so _making out like the world was going to end. Absolutely disgusting," one of them declared in a nasal tone. "I can't even think about why people do things like that, like, I can't even."

"I _know, _right?" the other one laughed meanly. "And she makes herself out to be such a little angel, too. Always kissing up to the teachers, asking for extra assignments, being so nice to everyone...when in reality, she's nothing but a prissy little slut."

_Zup. _Ugh. If he thought 80's society was bad, that was nothing compared to today's teenagers. The girl he hit screamed, but no one turned to help her save for her friend-everyone probably assumed it was a laugh of some sort. Whatever passed for a laugh these days. _Zup. _And there was the second girl. He took a moment to appreciate Tony's ingenious inventions as both girls tried to pull the dart off of their foreheads, to no avail. Clint considered getting out his crossbow for paintballs (he'd been verily surprised upon learning that such a weapon was available) and shooting them both in the forehead with purple paint, but then decided against it. These two weren't worth wasting perfectly good paint over.

_Wait. _He paused in aiming at yet another hapless walker, this time a teenager on a skateboard with his headphones in that wasn't paying any attention to where he was going, forcing several people to leap out of the way hurriedly for being flattened.

_Was that the smell of corn dogs?_

* * *

**Tony (Central Park)**

As soon as Clint disappeared up the tree, Tony hurried up the street, dodging several joggers and workers on their way back from lunch break, almost running over a policeman carrying a box of donuts. That would _not _have looked good on his list of felonies. 'Ran over an off-duty officer with a box of donuts', along with the various misdemeanors he was going to commit, would not help Pepper's case when everything was said and done.

"_The suit is ready for deployment, sir," _JARVIS sounded in his earpiece. _"Shall I have it sent over to you?" _

"Lemme get up high, first, J," Tony answered, scanning around for a tree, much like Clint had moments before. "Don't need people figuring out what I'm going to do before they need to." After much deliberation (and some scrapes from trying to climb the tree-he hadn't done that in _years_-he was perched on a tree branch, clad in full Iron Man armor. "Let's pull up the footage of Octo, shall we?" JARVIS gave him a full-color feed of the little octopus-like machine, who was scuttling through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, discreetly attaching darts to people's shoes.

In the corner of his mask, Tony could see the various numbers of people each Avenger had hit. Clint's would occasionally jump, Steve and Natasha's jumping in large bursts (what the hell? Were they working together?), and Thor's increasing at a constant rate. His seemed to be the highest at the moment, however. By quite a long shot. He didn't expect to lose this war anytime soon.

Slowly but silently, Tony rose up into the air, so not to alert anyone to the fact that Iron Man was out and in the open. He'd reprogrammed his repulsors to shoot darts whenever he aimed at someone, and JARVIS would be able to tell him whether someone had been hit or not. Surprisingly, Tony noted as he hit several people in succession, almost no one had been tagged. Did Barton have something up his sleeve, or...?

* * *

**Thor (2nd Ave)**

_These mortals were so gullible_, he snorted as he strolled down the street, jauntily swinging his hammer. _How could they not notice the small projectile coming towards them? _He was right in not having to worry about Mjolnir's appearance, the mortals wouldn't have seen it even if Thor had swung it at them from five feet away.

Not that he had any particular preference as to who he was shooting, of course. Although the people he was shooting at all seemed to look similar in appearance, with ratty clothes and matted hair. They all looked like they could use a good shower, courtesy of Stark Tower. Perhaps he would have a word with Lord Stark about opening the tower to charity when this war was over.

_Avenue A? Why would they name a street as such? _Ah, well. That was no matter. He was here on a mission to fulfill-tag as many people as possible with these darts of Lord Stark's, and quite possibly tag more than that of the other Avengers. Then would he possibly begin to regain his pride after having been bested by the Man of Iron. Thor's confusion only increased when he rounded the roundabout, having stuck darts to all of the people on the street, many of them unconscious. _Avenue B? What kind of naming system was this? _Nevertheless, he set about sticking darts to people. Those who were awake to see the god shooting darts at them tugged at the Nerf dart in confusion, some of them turning to shout at him upon figuring out that they weren't able to get it off.

"Hey!"

"What'd you do?"

"If you think that this is gonna make the government-"

"He's getting away!"

"Everyone after him!"

Upon hearing that last exclamation, Thor just clutched Mjolnir and ran as fast as he could, thinking that he had marked enough persons that his score would be satisfactory until he made it to safety.

He didn't stop until he made it to 1st Avenue, having quickly lost sight of the angry mob, and collapsed onto the sidewalk, thoroughly confused on what had just transpired.

* * *

**Steve (Park Ave.)**

"Well, that wasn't so bad," he muttered to himself as he rounded the corner from East and Seventh, having just narrowly escaped a battle with Clint. For reasons unexplained, he'd been munching on a corn dog when Steve had encountered him, and had not taken kindly to the fact that Steve was 'encroaching on his space', as he so eloquently put it. Sometime during the battle, Natasha had shown up, forcing the both of them to go on full alert as she'd begun to fire rapidly, determined to put them down for the count. Then, while he and Clint had been shooting at each other, the archer with his paintball crossbow (they _made _those?) and Steve with a classic blue paintball gun, the assassin had disappeared to who knew where. He'd run for it with Clint still shooting at him, yelling something about avenging his corn dog.

Steve _really _didn't want to know.

But Park Avenue really wasn't that bad, he mused. There were people everywhere-it was New York, of course why would there not be?-and he'd managed to tag quite a few of them. He'd discovered that targets were especially vulnerable when at crosswalks. They'd all been instantly tagged, most of them completely unaware that they'd just been tagged by a bright yellow Nerf dart with a red, white and blue tip. That was sure to go over well when it was discovered. Especially when they found out that it wouldn't come off unless there was a special dissolving agent applied-or, as Natasha liked to call it, "Spit."

He'd just made it past the intersection of Park and East 42nd, having chanced upon a large gaggle of tourists looking for Madison Square Garden who were all too happy to get Nerf-darted by Captain America, when he saw it.

Or, more accurately, _him. _Tearing through the crowds as fast as he could, wielding his hammer with a loud battle cry.

Thor.

Apparently, the Asgardian had seen him as well, for he came to a stop, cocking his hammer at the super soldier with a determined look on his face. "Lord Steven," he began. "I should not like to fight you here in this crowded area, but should it come to that, I shall most willingly trade blows for the sake of my pride." A large crowd had gathered around the both of them, leaving a large circled berth for the two heroes.

"Captain America's gonna fight Thor?" someone cried. "What's going on?"

"Are the Asgardians no longer allies of the Avengers?" someone else echoed. Thor shot him with a dart, and they ran off, yelling, "I GOT NERF DARTED BY THOR!"

"Was that really necessary?" Steve asked Thor, not breaking eye contact. "All she did was ask a question."

"She knew too much," he growled in response, still twirling his hammer. "Now, I ask you again, Lord Steven. Will we agree to part in peace, or shall I have to fight you?"

Half of the crowd began to chant, "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" while the other half begged to prevent an intergalactic incident. Steve and Thor continued to stare each other down, paintball guns cocked. The crowd failed to notice their choice of artillery, however, completely missing the point that the entire thing was a game.

"Let's agree to part amicably," Steve finally said through gritted teeth. "I am sure, Thor, that you have targets that you wish to pursue. As do I." The god nodded imperceptibly. "But, let me say this now: the next time we meet, I have no intention of letting you walk away." With that, he swiftly exchanged his paintball gun for his Nerf gun, and began shooting darts at the crowd that had gathered around them, people screaming as they scattered.

"Captain America's gone rogue!"

"Someone call the National Guard!"

"Screw the National Guard! Someone call the NYPD! Call the FBI! Call the CIA! Whoever the hell's in charge!"

Steve and Thor's darts went flying everywhere as people scrambled for cover, some taking refuge inside stores, others catching taxis and speeding away, and others simply attempting to use their personal belongings to shield themselves from the projectiles.

Slowly but surely, the two men went in opposite directions, Thor back down East 34th Street, and Steve down to Madison Square Garden. Eventually, the scene quieted down-that is, until someone decided to tug at one of the Nerf darts they'd been hit with.

"Hey! These things don't come off!"

* * *

**Natasha (Brooklyn Bridge)**

Propping her feet up onto the bench, Natasha let out a gust of air as she relaxed for the first time that afternoon. Up until now, she'd warily been looking over her shoulder for an Avenger, the cops, or both. She hadn't exactly been innocently carrying a paintball pistol for nothing. And _no one _was brave enough to try and ask her. Yup. Taking the subway had _definitely _been the right idea. Rogers and Barton were probably duking it out where she'd left them on East 59th. No way anyone would bother trying to look for her this far. The only one who was even capable of making such a speed was Thor.

Now, all she had to do was sit back, chill, and wait for everyone else to shoot themselves until she got to go in for the win. Of course, she'd darted everyone on the train ride here-no one said the subway system couldn't be put to use. She'd actually switched trains quite a few times-the number of people to be darted was endless. She supposed she should get up, traverse the bridge, shoot people there...

...but she really didn't need to get arrested. Plus, this bench was pretty damn comfortable.

* * *

**Steve (Chinatown)**

_Just what exactly was that thing in the cart? _

Steve's curiosity got the better of him as he warily approached the metal cart, the Asian man behind it merrily muttering to himself as he moved several sticks of meat onto his grill. _Pork! Meat! Beef! All for $1! _the sign read. Frowning, Steve tried to remember if he'd taken any money with him before leaving the tower. He _had _stuffed his pockets full of darts...

"Snap out of it, Rogers," he said to himself. "You've got a war to win." He made a mental note to himself to come back here sometimes after the war (with money) and settled instead for darting the man.

Really, the people here were easy picking. Most of them seemed to have no idea who he was, and he darted twenty, thirty, forty without a single incident. Until...

"Boba? What's boba?"

Ten minutes and a cup of bubble tea later, he had his answer.

* * *

**Tony (American Museum of Natural History)**

"Ah, there you are, my loyal little monster," he said relishingly as he saw his machine exit the museum, looking slightly worse for wear, but otherwise in the shape he'd sent it in. "Tagged everyone in the museum for me, didn't ya, little fella? And you didn't even have to pay admission fees!"

"Who are you talking to, Tony?"

"Pep!" Tony felt a stab of alarm go through him at the sound of his girlfriend's voice emanating through the speakers. "Uh...good to see you too?"

"I just got back to an empty tower, Nerf darts everywhere, and JARVIS refusing to tell me where you all are. What's going on? And why are you sweet-talking?"

"When did I give you access to my suit?"

"_You _didn't. Natasha was nice enough to hack it and let me in."

_Natashalie. _Probably somewhere with access to a computer-this old Mark couldn't be hacked with any old cell phone. Which meant that she was either back at the Tower, or somewhere Tony didn't know about... "Shacking up with Barton, eh? Thanks, Pep!"

"Actually, it's not Clint she's with, it's-Tony Stark, that doesn't answer my question!" But the billionaire had already hung up, slowing his repulsors so that he landed gently on the ground. Then, so as to avoid being seen, he rapidly grabbed Octo and blasted back into the air.

"I can't let her win this war, now can I, Octo...?"

* * *

**Current Scores: **

**Barton, Clinton: 45**

**Odinson, Thor: 366**

**Rogers, Steven: 689**

**Romanoff, Natasha: 750**

**Stark, Anthony: 474**

"Coulson? It's Pepper...yeah, Tony's got another one of his harebrained schemes in action..."

* * *

**Natasha (West 14th and Avenue of the Americas)**

Having stopped in Chinatown for a quick bite (the look on the server's face when she'd ordered in fluent Mandarin had been too good to pass up,) and a swing by her tiny little apartment in Greenwich Village for more darts and paintballs, Natasha was all ready to go provoke an Avenger. Or possibly another crowded area. Strangely enough, on her way through Chinatown, she'd caught glimpses of yellow darts, all marked red, white and blue.

_Steve wouldn't be that smart...would he...?_

"Natasha."

The man in question was suddenly in front of her, holding his paintball gun aloft. His pockets were still filled to the brim with darts, she noted, meaning that he hadn't shot too many people. "Steven. Still filled with darts, I take it."

Without breaking his gaze, he pulled his Nerf gun out of its holster with one hand, aiming it at a random gaggle of people. "I like to score big hits every now and then. I don't play dirty." She narrowed her green eyes at him, trying to determine if he was jabbing at her or not.

"What are you trying to say?"

She saw it before it even happened.

The bright blue paintball whizzed past her side and hit some random bystander, who was shunted sideways with the force of the impact. "Ow!" Steve looked ready to apologize, but instead fired off another shot at Natasha, who by now had her paintball pistol out and was shooting right back at him. The two exchanged shots, their moves becoming a graceful dance that was impossible to ignore. People started to stop and stare at the duo, who were moving quickly, with their paintballs moving even faster.

"You're not going to win this one, Romanoff," Steve growled as another paintball whizzed past his head. "Two-time war champion in the making you're facing here."

"Now, now, Rogers," she taunted back, squeezing off several shots in succession. "You only got lucky last time. We all know who's the master of paintball, and that's me." A black paintball narrowly missed his stomach. "Now, don't make me shoot you."

Suddenly, she straightened up, aiming and firing at a spot some distance away. The entire crowd went silent, puzzled as to why she'd shot so far, when they heard the sound of,

"MY CORN DOG!"

"Was that just..." Steve didn't even get to finish his sentence, for Natasha had popped him a paintball in the knee, effectively taking him out before she took off running up the street. The soldier keeled to the ground, the crowd converging around him to see if he was alright.

She didn't even look back.

* * *

**Clint (West 23rd and Avenue of the Americas)**

He stared forlornly at his corn dog, which now had a black paintball embedded in it. There was no _way _Natasha had seen his corn dog. Even lower of a probability that she'd realized that it was _him _holding the corn dog.

But his _corn dog..._

His lament for the lovely street food was cut short by another red paintball whizzing over his head. Turning in the direction it'd come from, fear seized him as he saw her bright red hair advancing up the street, paintball pistol cocked and at the ready. Why weren't people screaming and running for their lives? The sight of Natasha was enough to send people running. Natasha and a _paintball gun _should've made anyone piss their pants. In fact...

...he was definitely going to need to change his pants when he got back to the tower.

_Zup. Zup. _Black paintballs started flying at him, and it was only due to an extensive knowledge of Natasha's shooting style that Clint made it through the first round without being splattered. Really too bad he couldn't say the same for his corn dog. And for that, she was going to _pay. _Purple paintballs began to fly in retaliation to the black ones, and a similar dance began, this time only dirtier, as neither Clint nor Natasha were afraid to play dirty.

"Go Hawkeye!" someone shouted, and Natasha rewarded them with a dart to the forehead.

"Clint's losing this one, idiots," she snarled, before launching into a graceful aerial flip while letting off several shots that arced through the air, all hitting Clint in succession. He was covered in black before she'd even hit the ground. Smirking, she headed up the street towards the Empire State Building. Steve and Clint down, only two to go...

* * *

**Thor (Empire State Building)**

He'd been certain that he'd been the only one ingenious enough to think of this idea. What better way to target people with darts than to climb up one of the highest buildings in the city? But no, Lord Stark seemed to have the same idea, only with the advantage, as he simply flew up to the building's balcony. Well, if that was the way he wanted to play, Thor could play that way as well. Raising Mjolnir, he was up on the balcony in an instant, confronting Stark with a twirl of his hammer.

"Lord Stark! So we meet!"

"Point Break," the man greeted crisply in return, before beginning to assault Thor with red paintballs. People screamed as they were splattered in blood-like paint. One brave man was even angry enough to whip out his phone and dial a lawyer.

"I'll be suing for this! This is a Rolex you're damaging here! Not to mention disturbance of the public peace!"

"Ah, hell, Pepper's going to have my ass later for that," Tony swore under the mask while firing at Thor. "Best that I get my licks in while I can." So far, the god had managed to deflect all of Tony's paintballs with a flick of his hammer, and even once had turned so that a paintball has smacked against his penguin Pillow Pet. Now, gold and red flew through the air and the two exchanged blows.

"This is just like in the _Avengers _movie!" a bystander gasped, camera held aloft. "It's like they're reenacting the movie in real life!"

"I feel that the stakes are the same, sir," Thor answered gravely. "Shall we take this to the air, Lord Stark?"

Tony would've answered had he not been sprayed with black paintballs. "What the hell? I've been shot!" Thor looked around for the source of the shooter, surely they couldn't have gone far after assaulting Lord Stark-

-only to be doused in black paint. If possible, he was covered in more paint than Tony had been. "What is the meaning of this? Who dares shoot the son of Odin with a paintball? I promise you, you shall pay!"

"Uh-uh-uh, Thor, you wouldn't dare shoot a _lady, _would you?" a sultry voice chuckled, and Natasha emerged from the crowd, still holding her smoking paintball pistol.

* * *

**Coulson (Empire State Building)**

"I see them." From his vantage point on the SHIELD helicopter, he could see the sprawled-out silhouettes of Iron Man and Thor, surrounded by a crowd of people. "Unfortunately, there's no way to directly land on the roof."

"Good, because I'm going to kick Stark's ass to the middle of the next century," Maria Hill growled. "There's already enough paperwork with all of the calls coming in about the Nerf darts. Did they really have to take their little wars to the streets? Land on the roof of Madison Square Garden."

* * *

**Tony (Empire State Building)**

"Everything hurts," he muttered inaudibly. "Why does it feel like I've just been hit by a Jericho? JARVIS, systems check. I need to make sure Natashalie didn't damage anything valuable."

"_Everything seems to be in working order, sir."_

"Excellent. I just need to make sure Natashalie has a living hell for the next month or so. Should I dye her shampoo green or something?"

"Dye my shampoo green, Stark, and you _will _be missing something valuable. And it's not that easy to replace." Natasha's threat was barely audible through the mask, but the undertone was still present all the same.

"Geez, got it, Spidey. Oh God, it's not him you're going out with, is it? Because it's totally snatching the cradle if you do. You really need to have better taste in men. If you want, I can have Pep set you up with some of her guy friends that she has in her circle-"

"_Stark." _The threat this time was not Natasha's, but a much more stern tone. "What have you done this time?"

Coulson. _Ah, shit. _

"Agent! Good to see you!" At that, Tony flipped his faceplate up to catch Coulson crouched over him, a permanent frown etched onto his face. "You haven't told Pepper about this, have you? Because if she finds out about this, I'll be on the couch for a month, and Cap always likes occupying the couch when he can't sleep, which almost guarantees I'll have to sleep on the floor and you know that the floor is an absolutely hazard for my back-"

"I didn't tell Miss Potts. Agent Hill decided she would."

"Can I at least know who won before I die?"

"That would be me, Stark." Natasha.

"_Damn."_

"Anthony. Edward. Stark. You just wait until you get back here." He would've rather Pepper shouted at him, actually. At least the threat of imminent death didn't seem so real then.

"Is there any chance I could've convinced you to just yell at me?"

* * *

**Read and review?**

**This one's really, really, _really _wordy. Sorry if it doesn't turn out too well, I was writing a term paper while I was doing it, and term papers are the devil for anyone who's written them. **

**Best review goes to Queen Martha Pond-here's the tea! Don't give it to Bruce, though. Steve will _not _be happy if you do. For this week, the best review gets Clint's corndogs!**


	22. Tumblr

**Exam season. I'm telling you guys. Exam season. My sincere apologies, but then again, I did warn this was going to happen...doesn't mean I'm happy about it :(**

**Shoutout to ronniefranco8, Embarrassed-Elf and ArsenalAtHeart for following! Best review goes to FanFictionQueen1, who pretty much spawned a plot bunny with their review...have some corn dogs! :D**

**All of these pictures really are on Tumblr, by the way. **

* * *

"Has anyone seen Clint?" Natasha asked, dashing into the kitchen, where Steve, Tony and Bruce were sitting at the table, eating breakfast. When they all shook their heads, she looked visibly relieved. "Thank God. Mr. Fluffernutter's gone missing and I have no idea where the hell he's gone."

"Frankly, I'm more concerned with the fact that you're rabbit-sitting, Natashalie," Tony remarked, his mouth full of French toast. "I really don't need to find any dead bunnies around my tower. Pep's already traumatized enough as it is with the random knives sticking out of random places." Steve smacked him on the shoulder, causing him to choke and spit out his food onto his plate. "What? It's true!"

"You know, she puts up with your ugly mug day in and day out, so I think she's desensitized to any and all trauma by now," Natasha quipped back at him, starting to rifle through various cabinets in search of the traitorous bunny. "How the hell does that thing move so fast? I swear, when I find that thing, I'm gonna..." There were a number of death threats muttered about the poor mammal that suddenly had Steve _very _afraid for his life.

"It's a bunny, Nat," he sighed. "It's guaranteed to be faster than you are. Besides, I don't think it could get into the cabinets without one of us noticing. We've been here for the last half hour. I think one of us would notice if one of Clint's pets streaked into the kitchen and jumped onto the counter. The thing literally has a bell on it."

"That's the thing," Natasha muttered, still rifling through the cabinets. "Damn rodent went missing an hour ago. Clint's gonna _kill_ me if he's ended up dead somewhere. And then have me brought back to life in Asgard so he can kill me again."

"You are quite the good little fluffy rabbit, are you not?" came Thor's voice from the doorway. Natasha froze, a mug in her hands. "I wonder why you have been hiding, hmm? Should we return you to Lord Barton? He will be plenty happy to see his prized pet, will he not?"

"I agree," Tony said to the shocked-silent trio as Thor continued to murmur demurely to Mr. Fluffernutter, just out of sight of the four of them. "Legolas wouldn't want to find out that his 'friend-that's-a-girl' lost his prized bunny and let it get into the hands of an Asgardian. That's pretty bad bunny parenting right there. It would be _awful _for future prospects, don't you think?"

He narrowly dodged the mug she threw at his head as she dashed out of the room, frowning as he heard it shatter to pieces against the wall behind him. "THOR!"

"Damn. And that was the _good_ Iron Man mug."

* * *

"Clint?" Natasha began nervously as she entered his apartment via her usual 'pick-the-lock and stealthily creep in'. She knew Clint hated when she did that. Which was why she'd chosen to announce her presence, should the archer take fright and accidentally shoot her. "Could I ask you something?" Clint was sitting at his computer, scrolling through some website, his back to her.

"Well, that's not the ship, is it now...Always thought Hill would look better with Steve and not Fury, what an old pirate...of course, Hill and Steve _are _together...That is _so_ not physically accurate. My ass is so much bubblier than that-Nat," he said, surprised, as the redheaded assassin let out a choke of surprise. "What are you doing here, and how much of that did you hear?"

"Enough,'" she scoffed at him, temporarily putting aside the fact that she'd lost his favorite bunny and was sure to die for it. "What the hell were you in doing that warranted an examination of your own ass? Like you don't examine it enough on your own as is. I've _seen _you in the mornings trying to turn around enough to try."

"Tumblr" Clint muttered in this very small voice that had the likeness of a small child admitting they'd stolen a cookie out of the cookie jar. "Youseeitskindatakenovermylifeand-" He was cut off when Natasha stepped around him, scrolling the images on his computer. There, in a tiled layout highlighted against a dark shade of purple, was every Clint Barton picture that was possibly known to man.

"What the hell?" she whispered, half-shocked, half-curious. "Clint, you're on _Tumblr_? Is this what you've been doing when you're hiding in the vents all day?"

"Hey, it's an actual pastime," Clint argued, having gotten over the initial shame of being on a site for teens. "Do you know how many people use this thing daily?" His eyes travelled to the corner of the screen, where there was a little _Clint Barton_ inscribed where the user's login was supposed to be. Turning his eyes to meet Natasha's, he admitted, "...and maybe I kinda sorta have an account?" She said nothing, only sighed.

"I'm just going to walk out of this room and pretend that you and your little internet obsession never happened...then, by the time I go to bed tonight, I'll tell myself that your absence _isn't _because you're on Tumblr. I expected this from Tony, who's like the social media genius, but you..." Shaking her head, she backed slowly out of the room, still trying to process the fact that her boyfriend was on _Tumblr._ Of all things.

"Hang on, Nat, was there something you had to tell me?" She stopped in the doorway, considering her options. Well, he'd just admitted he was on Tumblr, time for her to live the last moments of her life...

"Um...I sort of lost Mr. Fluffernutter?" Clint whipped around in his chair, eyes widened with shock.

"YOU WHAT?!"

Natasha did the one thing she'd never expected to do: she ran for her life.

* * *

"In all my time, I don't think I've _ever _seen Natasha run that fast." Bruce stopped chewing his cereal and gazed concernedly in the direction of the spy, who had recently streaked by in a streak of red hair, letting out a squeak as she dashed by. "You guys think she needs help?"

"You may have a point, platonic Life Science Bro," Tony added, worrying about something else other than himself for once. "Not even when the Hulk when after her in the Helicarrier. And I'm pretty sure nothing tops that. Unless..."

"ROMANOFF!" Clint came tearing through the same space Natasha had dashed through not just thirty seconds ago, mad as a bull. For the second time, the three of them were left in shock, this time gaping at the image of the archer chasing after what was presumably his girlfriend.

"...unless Natasha told Clint she lost Mr. Fluffernutter." Steve finished with a slight grimace. "This isn't going to be pretty, is it?"

"Why has Lord Barton just been hunting Lady Romanoff over Lord Fluffernutter?" Thor meandered into the kitchen, confusion written clearly on his face. "I have restored the rabbit to its overly large living space-what it needs such a space for, I do not know-but yet I can hear the sounds of an altercation between the two of them." He frowned. "Are they having some sort of newfound disagreement of which I have yet to be informed?"

Tony's jaw dropped open. "_YOU _stole the shedding ball of fluff?" At a look from Bruce, he threw his hands up. "You know as well as I do that the thing's been shedding over everything. Pep's even been asking me if I secretly got a dog without her noticing."

"But I have returned him!" Thor proclaimed, still confused. "I do not see the problem!"

"Natasha was supposed to be watching him, Thor, and because you took him, she thought she'd lost him. You know how much Mr. Fluffernutter means to Clint." Steve explained. Comprehension dawned on Thor's face.

"Ah, so it is a matter of mistaken placement. I still cannot comprehend why Lord Fluffernutter still bears this obnoxious name, however. There are plenty of noble names it could have assumed, yet after this _Fluffernutter _person-with such a name-!"

"You're telling me," Steve answered, grinning, before yelling, "CLINT! NATASHA DIDN'T LOSE HIM!" The faintest sound of 'Oh, thank Odin!' could be heard by Natasha from the next room, before the two of them dashed into the room, looking equally disheveled.

"Where was he?" Clint looked frantically around the room, as if expecting to see the rabbit hiding in between the cracks of a couch or something. "Did he pee in a mug? Eat through the cereal?" At that, his face grew dark. "Oh, I'm gonna punish him if he ate through the cereal..." Steve looked to Thor, indicating that he should explain the circumstances.

"Lord Barton, the fault was all mine. I simply wanted to spend time with the fluffy animal, so I took him on a tour of the tower. I apologize if I caused you or Lady Romanoff any inconvenience."

"You'll have to call her Lady Barton soon," Tony muttered quietly, as all five members of the team turned to look at him, then back at each other.

"So. Who wants the honors of killing him?" Clint asked in the silence. "I've got a Tumblr feed I need to update, sooo..." He was already slowly edging out of the room.

"Clinton Francis Barton, you are _not _going back on Tumblr." Natasha's razor-sharp gaze never left Tony, but the threat in her voice was just as present. "You've spent enough time on the computer today already."

"Tumblr?" Tony had already stopped fearing for his life and turned to Clint. "Legolas, you're on Tumblr? I thought only I was on Tumblr!"

"You're on Tumblr too, Tony?" Steve asked with genuine curiosity. "And here I thought I was _finally _on top of things..."

"Might as well give it up," Bruce sighed. "I'm on Tumblr, too. Although not as much as any of you," he hastened to add.

"Do you speak of that site with all of the moving pictures and captions?" Thor asked. Everyone looked at him in surprise. "I admit I have visited that site a few times." When their stares hardened, he broke down. "It is quite possible that I have established a membership as well."

"Miss Romanoff, might I suggest that it would be wise for you to admit..." JARVIS chose to insert himself into the conversation, taking delight in setting Natasha up for the spotlight. When everyone turned to look at her, she threw her hands up with a large huff.

"Okay, fine! I'm on Tumblr, too! Okay? So maybe I've searched my name a couple of times in the search box...?"

"Natashalie, you're the woman of no emotions," Tony snickered. "You probably go through the pictures on your hashtag with a face like this." With that, he pursed his lips and gave a steely look to no one in particular.

"You think everything's funny, Stark. I bet you couldn't go a minute without laughing at a picture of your own face."

"Actually, it's fawning in admiration, but I think it's about the same." They stared at each other, a challenge in the air. "I call an Avengers challenge."

* * *

"You've got to scroll through all of the pictures with the assigned hashtag," Skye said later that afternoon, as all six of the Avengers were seated in the front of the lobby of Stark Tower, a large gaggle of SHIELD agents and tower personnel gathered around them. "As soon as you laugh, you're out. No rapid-scrolling-I see you, Barton. No shutting your eyes or I will pin them open for you. Whoever makes it to the end the fastest without laughing wins. Got it?"

"Got it." Despite initial doubts, each of them had warmed up quickly to the idea of the challenge, and it hadn't been long before a betting pool had circulated around SHIELD, causing Coulson to drop whatever he'd been doing at the time just to come see the competition. (He was totally rooting for Steve, and no way he had bet on Natasha winning, no siree...)

_Much _to May's displeasure. She'd bet on Thor winning, relying on his naivety to translating to an ability to not understand many of Tumblr's jokes. She'd done a few late-night scrolling binges-she was old, not dead. Not that anyone told her she was old.

FitzSimmons had made their bet in unison, claiming scientific evidence stating that Tony was sure to win. Hunter had hung back for a bit, silently assessing who was the best at hiding their emotions. Bobbi had automatically bet on her longtime friend, quietly praying to whichever deity it was that Natasha would win. If not, it was a month of needing to cater to Hunter's every beck and call. She wasn't sure either of them would live through that.

Skye had stared at all of them for a long while before finally betting on Natasha. "Ready?"

Each of them nodded. "Get set."

"GO!" This was shouted by FitzSimmons.

The Great Tumblr Race was on.

* * *

**Bruce**

Whose idea had it been to give him Thor's hashtag anyways? Not like he had much in common with the hammer-happy god. But he had to admit, there were quite a few people who were good at attempting to impersonate him. As he scrolled through the pictures, he raised an eyebrow at all of the floor-length blonde wigs and makeshift hammers. If Thor had seen these attempts at costumes, he would've snorted in amusement at all of the 'puny mortals thinking that they were worthy of lifting Mjolnir'. Even though there would be many attempts to explain that the hammer props weren't actually replicas of Mjolnir. He could already see it in his head...Discreetly, he logged in, returning to #thorodinson after refreshing the page.

Okay, people shipped Thor with _way _too many people. Not just Jane, but...was that LOKI?! And STEVE? Bruce quietly choked. He had a feeling both of them would kill someone if they knew. Loki especially. After he got over his whole 'why-would-I-_ever_-embark-in-a-relationship-with-my-brother-adopted-as-I-may-be' thing. A couple of reblogs here, a couple of likes there...and some notes just to throw some fangirls into a tizzy.

_Oh, hell, no_. Thor and Natasha? _What-how-_ Bruce couldn't even fathom how that one even worked. One, she was with Clint-anyone with two decent eyes (no offense to Fury) could see that they were _clearly _together. There would be no way that Thor and Natasha would ever be together. Ever. Not for all of the vodka and Loki mind-control in the world. Just...no. Bruce shook his head. Tumblr really was for crazy people. And yet, here they were...

Wow. Was that 'Thor x penguin'? With Thor holding a penguin saying 'This penguin is worthy of the power of Thor!'? Yes. Yes, it was. Bruce's mind absolutely refused to process the entire thing, and he had to stare at the image for another good fifteen seconds in absolute disbelief. There was no way the artist could've guessed about Thor and his secret obsession with penguins. Or the time he and Clint had stolen penguins from the zoo.

But still. There is was.

He couldn't help it.

He burst out laughing.

Around the room, various agents breathed a sigh of relief as it was now one Avenger down, five to go.

* * *

**Natasha**

Whoever'd assigned the ex-KGB spy the symbol of America really had a twisted sense of humor. Out of all the Avengers she could've gotten, it _had _to be Steve. It almost pained her to type in '#captainamerica' after she'd logged in. All her Tumblr binges, and she'd never come to this. Her screen was flooded with images of peoples' selfies wearing Captain America t-shirts, cosplaying Captain America, meeting Captain America lookalikes...

She was _so _glad it wasn't her that was the national hero. Looking good took work, you know.

Natasha scrolled past all of the selfies (it was on her bucket list that she'd track down who invented selfies and kill them. Clint seriously would. Not. Stop. Taking. Them.) and the cosplays, quirking a grin at some of the other edits and reblogging them. She was an equal-opportunity reblogger. Plus, if they shipped Steve and Hill (not that many of them ever did) it was worthy of a like.

Was that Steve and Thor? _People ship this? This is a ship? _Her inner fangirl went into overdrive, mentally flipping out at the various Avengers Steve had been paired with. Okay, so maybe she could understand Bucky. Hell, even _she _shipped Stucky on a regular basis, had the man not been brainwashed and tried to kill them all. Stony she understood-all of that bickering had to lead to _something, _after all-and Steggy was pretty much your canon for the poor guy. But Thundershield was a no-no the size of Budapest.

And Romanogers was a no-no the size of dear old Mother Russia. Natasha resisted the urge to smack her head against the laptop. She _knew _kissing Steve on the escalator had been a bad idea. (In more ways that one, it'd seemed. She'd had to work on Clint for a month before he'd accepted the fact that it'd only been a tactic to save her own ass.) Not that Natasha had anything against Steve. Just-the idea of being in a relationship with the guy (however platonic it might seem) made her shudder.

Odin help her for the posts that shipped Steve and Clint. And Odin help whoever thought of _that _ship. There were many people who'd be willing to correct that.

_*intense muffled gibberish*_

_Why the hell was Rogers wearing a paper bag on his head?_

"Hey, Rogers, I think I found some evidence of you being drunk," she called to him. "Come here." Sighing as he hit his timer, he walked over to where Natasha had zoomed in on the picture. "Do you remember putting a paper bag on your head?"

The look on his face was priceless, and to say she didn't find it funny would be a lie.

Coulson and Skye swore. Whatever had happened to Natasha being emotionless? Wasn't she a ginger?

Bobbi turned to Hunter, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. "No more trysts in the car."

* * *

**Thor**

The Eyes of Hawk was an easy go. Friend Barton was a part of these many so-called 'ships', as Friend Stark had so kindly explained to him before the start of the challenge. He was quite well versed in Tumblr-speak, but he still had not quite grasped the concept of a ship. Was it not a vessel in which people were to sail across seas in?

Who was the mystery woman that continued to show up in pictures with Friend Barton, he wondered. Had she been a longtime comrade of his? Was she a former lover? Of that, he would never know. The archer tended to be quite private about his past, and he was sure that not even Lady Romanoff knew the whole truth.

The name _Thor Odinson _shone in gold in the top left corner as he hummed to himself, going through the process of examining text posts, real-life pictures of those attempting to dress up as Friend Barton, and those that put him with a significant other. There was the woman in purple, Agent Morse, whom they'd met some time ago, and of course, Lady Romanoff, who was what everyone liked to call "canon" with Friend Barton.

There were plenty of snapshots that included his famous quiver of arrows. As well as many hand-drawn panels-comics, he corrected himself. There was no need for Friend Rogers to go into another rant about how pictures had not been moving back in his day. Much less on something like the Internet. In fact, he would be willing to say that the most-talked about object _was _the arrows of Barton's...

He paused on a pen drawing of Clint with arrows raining on him, shouting 'HELLS YEAH!' and piling into a pile of arrows, another speech bubble detailing 'Arrows'...

"_Clint, what the hell did you do to the vents? It's colder than Mars in here!" Natasha shouted, rubbing her arms together in the Tower's frigid air. "I know Stark's a cheap-ass, but he at least keeps the temperature to a decent 75, minimum."_

"_I take offense to that!" Tony had replied, also shivering. "Legolas, what did you do?!"_

"_Just wait for it, guys." Clint assured them, walking under a vent opening with a remote control in his hand. He frowned at them. "It's my birthday. Don't I get to celebrate a tiny bit?"_

"_Not when it involves a cold draft from the motherland," Tony muttered. Natasha glared at him. _

"_Can you just do whatever dramatics you need to do? Steve's starting to get flashbacks about his time in the ice."_

"_Why certainly, my lady." Clint took a deep bow and hit the switch on the remote control, shouting "HELLS YEAH!" as arrows rained down from the ceiling. Instantly, a warm draft inserted itself into the room. Tony and Natasha sighed in relief as they felt their various limbs come back to life. The archer burrowed himself into his pile of arrows, sighing contentedly, "Arrows..."_

"_You needed so many arrows that you blocked the heating system?" Bruce demanded. "Where'd you even GET all of those arrows?"_

_Clint had simply laughed. "Why, of course, I made them!"_

"Why, of course, I made them!" Clint's voice echoed across the room in perfect imitation of what had just transpired in Thor's flashback, and the combination was too much to handle. He burst out laughing, falling out of his chair and hitting the floor with a large THUD.

May sighed as she deposited her twenty into the pool.

* * *

**Steve **

This wasn't going to bode well. Whenever he'd been on Tumblr, he'd always stayed towards the safe side of the social media site, searching up things like 'cats playing the piano' or '#spongebob'. He knew how ugly the fanbases could get. Tony had told the stories late at night in lieu of horror ones, but they were still enough to freak him out.

How there were users that worshiped their idol like nothing else. How fangirls constantly argued over their choice of 'ship'. (He still didn't know what that meant. The last time he checked, ships were boats.) Friendships could be broken over ships, which gave him a pretty good idea of the priorities of today's teenage society. And Natasha still asked him why he'd gone for Hill.

He logged in and hovered over the search box, releasing a sigh. Having to search '#ironman' would probably be one of the most painful things he'd ever needed to do. Across the room, Natasha quietly swore in Italian, and he grinned. Most likely, someone had told her to search '#captainamerica', thinking it would be an epic joke.

Whoever planned this was _very _good at delivering hashtag death blows.

Especially with Steve being told to search for Tony.

Truth be told, there was a _lot _of quotes. Maybe the occasional joke about Tony being in House Stark (he'd read the Game of Thrones upon Bruce's request) and some memes, but other than that, Tony had a _very _boring hashtag. But Tony already probably knew that-heck, he'd probably already tried to spice up the page, knowing his penchance for the spotlight. Yet, as he scrolled, there wasn't a single mention of Tony's name, _Tony Stark, _anywhere.

"Hey, Rogers, I think I found some evidence of you being drunk," Natasha's voice cajoled to him from across the room. "Come here." Sighing, he hit the button on his timer to stop it and meandered over to her workstation, wondering what joke she'd dragged up this time. Most of the time, it was either Clint or Tony, but he wasn't stupid enough to believe she hadn't pulled some of her own weight. "Do you remember putting a paper bag on your head?"

_Ah, right. The 'bag-on-the-head' incident...which Coulson swore wouldn't be circulated around SHIELD HQ, much less the entire internet..._ He turned a deep red, trying to stutter out the answer. Which, to be all that honest, wasn't as thrilling as it was supposed to be. "Well-I was with Coulson-and FitzSimmons kind of-"

He'd never even got to finish his sentence as Natasha burst out laughing, a rich sound that drew the attention of every male in the room. Sighing, he headed back to his chair, hearing the majority of agents swearing as they dropped their money into the pool.

Some more suit photos, some of Iron Man versus the Hulk..like _that _was ever going to happen. Who did these users think they were kidding?

'This blog has worked (1) day(s) without an accident', read a sign, and there were two little figures (was that a little Fury? And a little him?) standing in front of it. _'Trust me, Nick. 2015 is not going to be anything like 2014', _read the little Captain's speech bubble.

Little Nick was on the verge of answering, _'Look, Cap-' _when there was a large, jagged bubble that read _'BOOM!' _The next picture shifted to show a little Tony and unconcious Bruce in the background, Tony in his suit, insisting _'Don't panic!' _The next picture: _'Nobody died!' _Then, in the last picture, the sign advertising the number had gone back to zero, and Tony turning to Bruce, worrying _'I hope'._

Steve snickered. That was actually a plausible situation. But he wouldn't tempt fate by setting up that sort of sign anywhere in the Tower. The last thing he needed was Tony to take that as some sort of personal challenge. Maybe if he issued some sort of reverse-psychology challenged where he said Tony couldn't be loud...?

"And Steve Rogers, that is a snicker, you are out!" Skye announced, clapping her hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is now down to the final two," she addressed the crowd in a royal voice. "On the left, he's the man of iron, Tonnnyyy Stark!" Tony lifted his hands in the air briefly as a quarter of the crowd let out a roar. "And on the right, the guy that no one wants to mess with because they don't want the Black Widow to kill them, Cliinnnt Barton!" There was an even louder cheer, perhaps fueled by the fact that Natasha was glaring at them all. "We are currently at fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds."

* * *

**Tony**

What better way to win a challenge than to do it Tumblring photos of his platonic science life partner? As Tony scrolled through his page, his login name highlighted in silver (it required a very complicated hack to change it from gold, okay?), he snorted, unimpressed. "And that was a snort, not a snicker!" he yelled to Skye before she could call him out on it. "Man, Brucie, no one really likes you, do they? Well, at least the real you. Everyone seems to like the comic version of you better."

"I think I like it better that way," Bruce answered after a beat of silence. "Then I don't have to see the Hulk's abs get marred by some fatso with a beer belly." At that, Hunter and Bobbi burst into laughter on the sidelines, leaving May to crack a smile as Coulson turned a deep red.

"I thought we deleted that picture," he said through a gritted smile. _"Didn't we, May?" _

"Oh, sorry, was it _that _one you wanted deleted?" Skye asked in an innocent tone. "I thought it was the video where you caught AM singing in the shower." May shot her a grateful look-the Bus team had already heard her singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' in the shower, to the satisfaction to Hunter and Bobbi, who snickered every time the song came on. And since Fitz _somehow _had the damn radio tuned to play Queen _every five minutes_... Coulson, in turn, scowled at May, who only shot him a bright and sunny smile, looking as unnatural as one might think it would be.

_Hey! Scrap Hulk! Now that would be a good idea for my next project..._ Tony reblogged the idea, thinking of all of the spare parts he had lying around his lab. He definitely had enough to build a Hulk figure out of scrap metal. Maybe even two. It would probably make a better punching bag for Rogers. Provided he wore gloves. Hm, but what kind of gloves would he need...?

"Tony, whatever it is you're planning, _no_." Pepper called over to him, her stern voice ringing through the tense silence of the agents still remaining in the bet. "Trust me when I say this-we can hear you thinking from over here."

"But it's not even anything remotely-"

"Tony, I said _no._"

'_How would Loki react if Hulk hugs him out of the blue?'_

There was a picture of the Hulk squeezing civilly-dressed Loki to death, Loki's face going read with sweat dripping down his forehead as various speech bubbles revealed his thoughts. _'Remember Banner. Oh Nords, that was my spleen. You can heal. You will be fine. Do not stab. Tony will dislike. There goes my 12th vertebra. Don't cry.' _Tony started laughing. "'Don't cry'?" he choked, gasping for air. "'Don't. Cry'? That's like asking Steve to understand the joke about cantaloupes. Which he never will, by the way."

"Clint Barton!" Skye announced finally, sweeping her hands over to the archer, who was frowning at his computer. "The winner of the Great Tumblr Race!"

* * *

"Tell me, Legolas," Tony egged him. "How'd you do it? Especially given the hashtag you had..."

"Yeah, Clint." Steve added, sounding genuinely curious. "You didn't say a word throughout the entire thing."

"Who'd you get?" It was Bruce's honest inquiry that got Clint in the end, and he let out a large gust of air before turning to face the group.

"I got Nat's," he admitted finally, scratching the back of his head. The spy, who had been hanging at the back of the group, froze, her green eyes locking onto his gray ones. "And I didn't laugh because I couldn't. I scrolled through all the pictures, and I have to say I was honestly disgusted. All of those posts made her out to be so much worse than she actually was. They weren't the _real _Natasha Romanoff. They made her out to be pretty, dangerous, and completely incapable of emotion.

"It wasn't the Natasha Romanoff _I _knew."

"Okay, everyone, let's give 'em some space," Tony, in one of his rare giving moods, motioned for everyone to slowly back away. "Come on, guys."

* * *

**Later that night...**

"You too, Steve?" Bruce groaned as he came into the living room later that night, finding the super soldier camped on the ground with a sleeping bag, pillow and flashlight.

"I've been here for an hour already," Steve admitted, sitting up to face him. "There's a spare sleeping bag to my right, if you want one. Tony's crashed on my left."

"Thor's sleeping through it all, I take it."

"Yeah. The man could probably sleep through the Hulk and wake up wondering what had happened to the wall."

"Wish I had his sleeping habits," Bruce groaned as he eased into a sleeping bag, trying to rid his ears of Clint and Natasha's 'sounds' reverberating through the walls. "Remind me to call Hill in the morning and have the place soundproofed. For the _third _time."

* * *

**Those poor Avengers. There's going to be some coffee withheld in the morning for the both of them...**

**Read and review! Pleeeaaaseee! Best one gets the money everyone bet! (Because no one actually bet Clint would win. Suckers.)**


	23. Fanfiction

**Monday morning as I update from my phone... *winces* Sorry... **

**Shoutout to Gryffenclaw's Princess, Violet Ribbons, Niom Lamboise and CaptainWidow for following! :D**

**Best review goes to Violet Ribbons! You are now about five hundred dollars richer :)**

**Special thanks to aliceindeepdarkwonderland for the prompt! **

* * *

"MOCKINGNERD!"

"NO, HUNTINGBIRD!"

"MOCKINGNERD!"

"HUNTINGBIRD!"

"MOCKING-"

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?! IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING!" This came from an irate Clint, who'd poked his blond head out of a vent opening just to yell at them. "I'm trying to sneak in a couple of snoozes before Tash wakes up and decides she wants a donut from Texas or something! You know how pregnant woman get!"

As if on cue, Natasha's faint whine could be heard from their room. "Cliinnnnttt..." The archer scowled at the duo once more before responding his affirmation. "I want an egg-on-bagel sandwich. With ham and cheese and bacon and tomato and..."

"Jeez, Tasha, you want all that at three in the morning?" HIll and Coulson exchanged looks. For such a small woman, she sure ate a _lot_.

"ARE YOU QUESTIONING ME, CLINTON?"

"No, honey!" Clint answered hurriedly, flipping his middle finger at the sniggers coming from the agents. "I'll have your sandwich ready in five minutes! Goddamn cravings," he muttered, dropping into the kitchen, across from where Hill and Coulson were currently camped out on the living room couch. "The last time this happened, she wanted a double meatball marinara sub. With five cheeses. I don't even think we _have _five cheeses." With a sigh, he poked his head into the fridge, searching for some eggs, cheese and ham.

"Huntingbird." Hill whispered quietly to Coulson, who'd been watching Clint, mouth agape.

"No way. Mockingnerd all the way. They were divorced, for God's sake." Coulson whispered back, albeit a bit more fervently than Hill.

"What makes you think Mockingnerd will become an actual ship? Just because Morse saved her ass getting her out of that HYDRA lab does _not _mean that ship is going to sail, Coulson!" Hill argued. "Huntingbird is statistically more likely to happen than your precious Mockingnerd."

"Who the hell is Huntingbird?" Clint asked, looking up from his rummage through the fridge. "And-better question-who the hell is Mockingnerd? Is this some kind of new mission I haven't heard about? Please don't tell me it involves pet names for significant others, Tasha almost had my ass the last time that happened-"

But Hill and Coulson were beyond trying to explain to him. Both of them just stared at him with their mouths wide open, Coulson's having dropped open again from the minute Clint questioned 'Huntingbird'.

"You don't know what that means." The inquiry was more of a statement than a question.

"I can't say that I do," Clint shook his head, starting to assemble the sandwich. _Bread, cheese, ham..._ Behind him, a pan crackled to life as he cracked an egg onto it, sighing as he turned it over, frying it to over-and-easy goodness. _Damn. Tomato goes under the cheese, otherwise she's going to throw a fit..._

"I can't believe this." Hill said to Coulson, on the verge of pinching herself to see if she really was awake. "Do these people really not read fanfiction? I can't believe they don't read fanfiction. I don't. I really don't."

"We have to show it to them," Coulson answered, mind whirring out Mission: Introduce Avengers to Fanfiction. "But first, you'll have to admit that Mockingnerd is more liable of a sailing ship than Huntingbird any and every day."

"I will not. I fully support Huntingbird and I will get that damn ship to sail even if it kills me!"

"Mockingnerd!"

"Huntingbird!"

"Mockingnerd!"

"SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU! I'M TRYING TO EAT A SANDWICH!" At Natasha's outburst, they both went quiet, not wanting to provoke the ire of a pregnant Black Widow. Goodness knows she was dangerous enough on a normal day.

But only for five seconds.

"Mockingnerd."

* * *

"Who should we find first?" Hill asked Coulson, who was currently scribbling down ship names onto a legal pad. Peeking over his shoulder, she could just make out the names he was writing.

_Romanogers (Rogers, Romanoff, Barton)_

_Stony (Rogers, Stark)_

_Science!Bros (Banner, Stark)_

_Stucky (show to Barton and Romanoff, poss. reality?)_

_ThunderShield (Rogers, Odinson)_

_HulkTasha (note: not when Barton is around should this be shown to Romanoff and Banner)_

_Cold War (Barnes, Romanoff. Again, not in presence of Barton)_

_HawkIron (Stark, Barton, Romanoff. Allow her to laugh at humiliation of both.)_

_Soviet Spouses (Romanoff, Barnes)_

_Captain Hill (Rogers)_

Hill snagged the pen from Coulson's hand and scribbled under that, _Capsicoul _and _Phlint_. When Coulson looked at her, she shrugged. "Hey. You wrote mine down, only fair that I should get revenge on you."

"Let's go freak out Barton first. I'm sure he'll take the news about the Soviet Spouses quite well."

* * *

"Alright, did someone eat the last of the eggs?"

Clint froze. Right. In his frenzy to make Natasha's sandwich the night before, he'd totally forgotten that they were on their last carton of eggs and that Steve needed them every morning to make Bucky pancakes. "Just breakfast for a friend," he'd shrugged when Tony'd questioned him about it one morning. "Bucky needs some continuity in his life for a change."

"Sorry, Steve," he apologized, actually meaning it. "Natasha had a weird breakfast sandwich craving at three this morning."

"No, I heard that," Steve answered from the fridge, still frowning into it. "Everyone did, actually. That took what, two eggs?" The fact that he knew Natasha required two eggs in her sandwich scared Clint a bit. He wasn't going to question it. "There were ten yesterday. There should be eight left."

"SKYE!" Coulson yelled. The hacker in question skidded into the room, hair dishevelled and out of breath.

"Thirteen seconds," Hill checked her watch as Skye glared at her. "Not bad. May's training you well."

"Was there _any _other point to that, other than to test my reflexes?" Skye asked, trying to tame her hair into some sort of decent look. "Because I'm reading this _great _Stony fanfic, which Hunter _insists _will never happen, and _obviously _he's wrong-"

"Did you take all the eggs?" Steve asked bluntly, not even looking up from the fridge. He'd obviously chosen to ignore the 'Stony' comment. Skye frowned.

"Why would I take all the eggs?" At Coulson's look, she sighed exasperatedly. "Okay, it was that _one _time, AC, and it was for a good cause!" When Clint raised an eyebrow as to inquire why, she explained, "So maybe there was this fanfic where apparently Stark tried to start a prank war with Natasha, only he kept losing until he decided he'd replace her lotion with egg yolks, and I decided I'd do that to May and Bobbi-"

"I'm still waiting to hear about how that was a good cause." Skye opened and closed her mouth, gaping like a fish, floundering for an answer.

"I didn't take the eggs, honestly," she insisted. "I don't know what happened for them. I've been holed up in my room reading fanfiction for the past three days." She frowned. "I don't think I've taken a shower, actually." At that, each of the room's inhabitants pulled a face and backed away.

"Okay, we get it," Hill said finally. "Now, Agent Skye,for the love of God, go take a shower." Skye mockingly saluted her and tore out of the room, muttering about good deeds and how 'that lotion smelled like crap anyways'.

"We still need eggs," Steve emphasized unnecessarily. "Bucky's going to be up in ten or so minutes."

"Aw, look at that," Clint simpered. "You guys even know each other's sleep schedules." To his credit, Steve didn't even blush.

"You're talking about a sleeping schedule the guy held even back in the war. I think I know how he sleeps, thank you very much, Barton." Hill let out an 'ooh' and pressed two fingers to her wrist, going 'ssss'.

"I'll go get more eggs," Coulson said to them, rubbing his temples. "But on one condition."

"Name it." Clint and Steve echoed simultaneously.

"Barton, you have to Google the words 'Romanogers', 'Stucky', 'HawkIron', and 'Huntingbird'. And 'Mockingnerd'. Rogers, you need to Google 'Romanogers' too. Try 'Captain Hill', 'ThunderShield', and 'Stony'. Plus 'Mockingnerd' and 'Huntingbird'. Got it?" The two men nodded, and Coulson headed for the door. "I'll be keeping Hill here to make sure you both Google the terms."

* * *

When Coulson returned, he'd expected to find Steve, Clint and Hill all reading quietly. Maybe Skye had even emerged to teach them the finer points of fanfiction. After all, he had sent her that text about Captain America and Hawkeye reading fanfiction.

He _hadn't _expected to come back to this.

"WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO PAIR ME WITH STARK?!"

"The truth is, Agent Hill, I don't have feelings for you. No offense intended."

"AND WHO'S THE IDIOT THAT PAIRED TASHA WITH ROGERS? Nothing to you, man," Clint added quickly, as so not to offend the super soldier.

"No offense taken, Barton. I'd actually be offended if you supported that. But _Stark, _of all people? Why is _Stark _paired with everyone? Do people not understand he's with Pepper?"

"Guys, the term is _ship_, okay?" Skye huffed, walking in looking a good deal more decent. "Two people that others want to see in a relationship is called a ship. You want them to be together, you ship it. Okay? Okay."

"I still don't get it, though!" Clint huffed. "Tasha's _pregnant,_ for God's sake! With _my _kid! And they've got her with freaking BUCKY BARNES!"

"Hey!" Steve shouted, offended. "That's Bucky you're talking about there!"

Clint snorted. "Now I could actually-what's the word, Skye?"

"Ship."

"Yeah. Ship. I think that the only good thing that came out of this was that I ship Stucky. Not that I already didn't, that is."

"Are you kidding?" Skye deadpanned. "I don't ship it. I luxury cruise it. Have you _seen _the pancakes he makes for Barnes every morning? They're like, a foot-high stack with three inches of whipped cream. _Plus, _there's all of that boysenberry syrup in the cabinets, when Steve _knows _that's his favorite flavor of all time."

"Can we quit with the whole 'Stucky' thing?" Steve asked. The tips of his ears were red. "Bucky and I are friends. That is all."

"Ship." Clint, Skye, Coulson and Hill coughed.

"_Friends._" Steve emphasized. "Coulson, did you get the eggs?" The agent handed over the plastic bag with the carton in it, and immediately, Steve headed to the kitchen, cracking eggs into the batter with a little more force than necessary.

"Hey, Clint, have you read the Clintasha fanfiction yet? There's this hilarious community that tries to explain Budapest..." And just like that, Skye had been recruited for Mission: Introduce the Avengers to Fanfiction.

* * *

"Natashalie hasn't threatened anyone yet," Tony said that afternoon, nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He'd recently just come up for air from his lab, claiming to be building a 'crisis bunker'. For what type of crisis, no one knew. "And we're dangerously approaching three o' clock. Has Barton suffocated her or something?"

"No, _Natasha _has been a little...preoccupied," Clint answered, coming into the room to catch the last part of Tony's sentence, and sent him a death glare. "I'm just here to make her lunch. Which is, by the way, a god-awful combination of chili sauce, ham and yogurt. Just to remind you which one of us here is actually suffering."

"So," Coulson called to him from the couch, where he'd been engrossed in yet another fanfiction. "Mockingnerd or Huntingbird?"

"Not even a question," Clint answered without missing a beat. "Mockingnerd."

"TOLD YOU!" was exclaimed at Hill in glee, who simply rolled her eyes.

"Huntingbird? Mockingnerd? Just what have I missed out on, pray tell?" Tony wondered. Coulson fished out his legal pad and a pen, drawing a few bold strokes through it before answering,

"Stony, IronHawk, and Science!Bros. Yes. Exclamation point," he said before the billionaire could even open his mouth to question it. "And go read with Romanoff. I daresay she'll have quite the time watching your reactions." Hill handed him a tablet and sent him off towards Clint and Natasha's floor with a wave.

Not soon after, they could hear his scream of horror and Natasha's full-bodied laugh echoing through the vents. "I WILL NEVER GET TOGETHER WITH ROGERS! OR BARTON!"

"I TAKE OFFENSE TO THAT!" Clint hollered back at him. "I'M PLENTY HANDSOME!"

"No wonder it's a ship," Skye answered easily, settling back against the couch. "They're both so narcissistic it's nauseating. Wonder how Nat feels about people shipping her husband with various others."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SHIP IT, NATASHALIE?"

Skye just burst out laughing.

* * *

"Brucie! Brucie! We're being shipped!" Tony tore into the lab, terror on two legs, brandishing a tablet. To his credit, Bruce barely even looked up from the experiment he was working on, calmly setting down his laser pointer.

"What do you mean, _'We're being shipped', _Tony? Is that code for attack or something?"

"You don't understand!" There was pure terror in Tony's eyes as he thrust the screen towards Bruce. "People actually want to see us in a relationship! I've been shipped with Rogers, for God's sake! _Rogers, _who we all know has a thing for the other Star Spangled Man With a Plan!"

"First of all, you'll have to explain to me what a ship is," Bruce answered, sighing. "Secondly, Steve and Bucky are just friends. They've taken it upon themselves to establish that many times over. Most of them for your benefit."

"Okay, um, the hacker explained it to me-"

"Her name is Skye."

"Yeah, Skye, cloud arrangement, whatever, told me that a ship is when there are two people who you want to see together. The actual action itself is shipping. Which means people want to see me and Rogers together. Do you know how damaging that would be to my reputation?" And as always, Tony had managed to bring the entire conversation back to himself. Typical. "They ship us, too, Brucie. They call us Science!Bros. With the exclamation point. I checked," he added before Bruce could ask. "And before I forget-not that I'm likely to forget anytime soon-I got shipped with _Legolas_. Natashalie couldn't stop laughing her ass off."

"I honestly don't think it's that bad," Bruce remarked noncommittally, turning back to his project now that there was no impending world crisis. "It's just people expressing their freedom of speech. So what if they prefer you to be with someone else than the person you're with? It doesn't actually affect your decisions." He leveled a glare at Tony. "_Does it_?"

"Well, no," Tony began, "but-"

"Then that's it," Bruce told him with finality.

"I need to go tell Hill that I ship Huntingbird one hundred percent." Tony said after a moment of silence. "There is no way Mockingnerd will ever exist, partially because FitzSimmons comes as one. You can't separate them." He hopped off of the stool and headed up to the lab. "I still think this counts as an emergency, Brucie!"

"Whatever, Tony," Bruce answered distractedly. As soon as Tony was gone, he picked up his tablet, unlocked it, and continued reading.

"Mockingnerd for the win,"

* * *

"Okay, this is the first time I've dragged my ass out of bed in three days," Natasha glowered, looking slightly sullen. And _very _swollen. "I may or may not pop in the next hour or so, so this is your warning to be prepared." Nervous glances were exchanged among the Bus team, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Hill.

"I think we'll be okay, Agent Romanoff," Simmons piped up quietly. "Both Dr. Banner and I can be counted on for assistance should it be needed."

"Good, then let's get straight to the point," Skye clapped her hands together. "Stucky."

"Stucky." Bobbi echoed. "You really want to poke that beehive?"

"I ship it," Natasha, May and Hunter echoed. Clint just looked confused at the new turn in his wife's linguistics.

"Babe, since when did you coin the word 'shipping it'?"

"One, that's two words, and two, should you ever call me _babe _in company again, I will make sure you're changing diapers for the first five months."

"Ooookay. Back to Stucky," Clint said. "You guys actually want to make Stucky reality."

"They're like, my OTP." Skye told them brightly. "I ship it so hard my feels get feels. You don't even want to see me when I read crackfics."

"Is there a dictionary for fanfiction?" Tony demanded. "If so, I demand I get a copy. I'm feeling so left in the dark here."

"OTP. One true pairing," Bruce responded, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. He just kept going. "Feels. Intense emotion that's completely unexplainable and comes with reading fanfiction. Crackfics-fics so outside the universe it's like the writer's on crack. That everything?"

"Anyways, the question is, how do we make the OTP a reality?" Coulson and Hill both had legal pads out and were jotting down verbal suggestions.

"Forge some notes." Clint.

"Make a love potion!" Tony.

"Send them on a life-threatening mission?" Hunter. At May's raised eyebrow, he answered, "Worked for me the last time."

"AHA!" Hill jumped up, her legal pad clattering to the ground. "So it _is _Huntingbird!" She turned to Coulson triumphantly. "Pay up, Coulson!"

"How-how-" Coulson attempted to find the appropriate words to express his dismay, but failed. In the end, he just settled for "_Huntingbird?_"

"Contrary to your belief, Coulson, you don't know _everything,_" Bobbi smirked, throwing her arm around Hunter like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You only act like you do."

Natasha smacked her shoulder. "My line, Morse."

"What about making them confess?" May's suggestion quickly brought them back to the subject. Clint shook his head.

"Forced interrogation's a tough thing for both Steve and Bucky," he answered. "Not even a question."

"Drop hints until they 'fess up?" That was Skye. FitzSimmons looked at her like she'd grown an extra head.

"Skye, this isn't middle school." Bobbi rolled her eyes. "This requires a little more drastic action."

"Why not just lock them in a closet?" Natasha. Ten heads slowly turned to her.

"Nat, you're a genius." Hill leaned forwards to high-five her, Natasha going in for a fist bump instead. There was an awkward moment where the two tried to find a compromise without ruining the whole thing. Eventually, they both just settled for a hand slap.

"Now. There's only one question," Coulson said determinedly. "Do we have a big enough closet?"

"Is that a challenge?" Tony scoffed. "I'm Tony Stark. Bring it."

* * *

"STEEEEVVVEEE!" At Natasha's shout, Steve scrambled into the room, a spatula in his right hand and apron on. They'd all learned early on not to mess with a pregnant Natasha.

"Yeah, Natasha? What's up?"

"Morse took my set of throwing knives to the range and she hasn't given them back," she complained. "If I don't have something to throw soon, I'm going to go bat-shit crazy. Clint's gone off God knows where-do you think you could go get my other set?"

"Yeah, sure," he said hastily, relieved that he wasn't about to meet immediate death. "Where are they?"

She told him: in a closet down on the 75th floor, on the fourth green cabinet on the left. "The combo's 8729. Be careful, you only get three tries before the whole thing self-destructs." After a few seconds, he carefully left the room, not sure if she was joking or not.

Natasha sighed and settled back against the bed. She had to wait a minute or two for Steve to get down there and get lost in the closet before she called for Bucky. Tony had taken the challenge of building a labyrinth a _little _too seriously.

Wow. She really _did _want to throw something. Hopefully, what was in that cabinet _were_ throwing knives-it was May who hadn't given her back her last set.

"BAAAAAARRRRNNNESS!"

He was slower to walk into her room, knowing she wouldn't kill him. "What up, Romanov?" He was the only one who called her as such except for Clint. "You got a weird craving for another Kraken?"

"Shut up, it was octopus, not squid," she muttered, halfheartedly swinging at him. "And it was only that one time."

"Then what is it? Finally realized that you were too good for Barton and that you want my hand in marriage?"

"You wish, asshole," she chuckled. "Morse took my last set of throwing knives and I need you to get my spare set before I chuck something else more valuable at the wall." She repeated the same information to him that she'd relayed to Steve. "Three tries or the whole thing blows up. Remember, 8279."

Bucky sighed before whirling out of the room. "Just this once, Romanoff..."

"You keep saying that," she called to him. "I'll let you know when it becomes true."

Now, all the rest of them had to do was play their parts and their OTP would be together in now time. The thought of it actually made her tear up a little bit, and she dabbed at her eyes with the edge of a blanket so as to not let it show. _Damn hormones. _

"Target number two coming into position, I repeat, target number two in position," Skye whispered urgently into her comm as Bucky came down the hallway. "Are you ready to execute, Mockingbird?"

"In position and ready to go," Bobbi whispered back from the other corner. "Nat, did you switch around the order of the numbers?"

"Of course I did," came the easy reply in her ear. "'Middle two numbers only, so they'll be bickering about it until the cows come home."

"Wow. Big closet for a weapons supply," Bucky remarked, opening the door and heading in. As soon as it swung shut behind him, Bobbi jumped out, quickly locking the door and running off.

"Phase one complete," Bobbi announced to the various schemers. "Begin phase two. Tony, start up the cameras."

"It would be my genuine pleasure."

Clint smacked him upside the head. "That was my line, idiot."

* * *

_Dammit. Should've brought a flashlight, _was the first thing that ran through Bucky's head as the door swung shut behind him, enveloping him in complete darkness. _Click._ Had someone just locked the door behind him?

He was _so _going to kill Natalia when this was all over.

"Bucky? Is that you?" He squinted to see who was on the other end of the flashlight, his heart jumping a bit when he saw-

"Steve? What the hell are you doing in here?"

"Looking for Natasha's spare knife set," he shrugged. Bucky noticed he was still wearing his apron, a sure sign he'd been cooking for his best friend. "What about you?"

"That's weird. She sent me to look for her knife set, too..."

"And now we're both trapped in a dark labyrinth, with one flashlight, out to find a knife set." Steve said flatly. "This reeks of Tony."

"But he wouldn't have gotten Natal-I mean, Natasha-to go along with it," Bucky pointed out. "Let's just find the knife set, and then we can determine who to kill after."

Together, the two of them wandered down the long, dark pathway, Steve's flashlight only lighting up the next five feet in front of them. "I take it Natasha didn't tell you to bring a flashlight,"

Bucky just shook his head.

"Okay, so that's the third green cabinet...the next one should come up soon...ah, there it is," Hoisting the flashlight under his arm, he bent down carefully to examine the digitized lock. Without really thinking, Bucky reached in and wiggled the flashlight out of his grip, holding it instead. "8729. Here we go."

"Wait." Bucky interrupted. "She told me it was 8_27_9."

"Are you sure you didn't get it wrong?" Only the mildest of frowns was on Steve's face as he straightened up to look at his best friend. "I'm pretty sure I remembered the combo right."

"I think I would know if I messed up or not, Rogers. I never mess up. 8279."

"8729."

"8279."

"729."

"279."

"279."

"279-dammit." Steve quietly swore, something Bucky revelled in. It wasn't often one got to see the great Captain America let loose a couple of profanities. "We get three tries. If it doesn't work, we're going with the other combo." He hunched down once more, long fingers deftly touching the numbers. "8-2-7-9. Enter."

"_Incorrect combo. Self-destruct sequence initiated." _A timer beeped to life, red numbers counting down from sixty.

* * *

"You told them they had three tries?" Clint asked, laughing. "You and I both know well that it only has one!"

"Yes, but what they don't know is that they only thing that's going to happen is a bunch of confetti's going to shoot out," Natasha replied, still watching the screen. Command Central had been set up in their room after Bobbi and Skye had carried out Phase One. Phase Two was currently in progress, and if everyone crossed their fingers and held their breath long enough, Phase Three might actually work.

"Don't forget about the glitter," Skye chirped merrily. Hunter looked at her fearfully.

"Not _glitter_."

* * *

"I thought we had three tries!" Steve cried, panicked.

"So did I!" Bucky responded, panicking for a whole different reason. There was still so much red in his ledger (to take a leaf out of Natalia's book) that he hadn't wiped out. And here he was, about to die with a bloodied name.

There were still so many things he had to say, and sixty seconds to say it.

Correction. Fifty-five. Fifty-four.

"Last words, on the count of three," he said solemnly to Steve, who just looked at him with ultimate fear in his blue eyes: the fear of dying alone without anyone beside you. "One."

"Two." Steve managed to squeeze out, pushing back the choking feeling in his chest. He _had _to tell him. He wasn't about to die with regrets. "Three."

"It's always been you."

The admittance slipped out of the both of them at the same time, their faces only dimly lit by the flashlight. As soon as it happened, a fear took its place on both their visages, waiting for the rejection and pain that would soon come both emotionally and physically. When nothing happened, they cracked one eye open at each other in sync.

Just like they always had been.

"Did you just-"

"I did." And now it was a new type of emotion on their faces as they threw themselves against each other, one that expressed sorrows and regrets on everything they had never had, and everything that could have been if _only they hadn't been such idiots dancing around the whole thing and-_

The last blip sounded, and each of them squeezed tightly onto the other as they waited for their imminent death.

Nothing came.

"Congratulations, Barnes and Rogers," A slow clap that could only be described as Natasha's came over a speaker somewhere. "You've passed the test."

Bucky, still holding the flashlight, ran it around the room, pausing it on a nondescript black speaker on the ceiling. "Romanov."

"And Barton. And Stark, Morse, Hunter, Coulson, Hill, May and FitzSimmons," Skye reeled off cheerfully. "How you two doing?"

"How are we _doing_?" Steve asked incredulously. "How are we _doing_? Oh, I don't know, let's see here. A), we got locked into a dark room with nothing but our own wits and a flashlight. B), we thought we were doing to DIE once we put in the wrong code, and C), WE GOT LOCKED IN A CLOSET!"

"Hey, in my defense, it's a pretty big closet," Tony defended. "Built it a couple of hours ago. You guys like? I can get it converted into a man cave, if you want."

"YES." came the synchronized reply of Clint and Hunter.

"Men." May rolled her eyes. "Always the same."

"Soooo..." Skye began. "Did our ship sail? Did it? Did it? Did it?"

Silence.

"What's a ship?" Bucky asked finally. Various facepalms could be heard through the speakers, Clint's being especially loud.

"Short for relationship," Steve answered finally. "So I guess the answer's yes?" He turned to Bucky then, a sheepish look on his angelic face. "That is, if you feel the same way now that we're no longer in danger of dying, but I can understand if you're not-"

"Shut up, fool," Various cheers could be heard throughout the tower as the two of them shared a kiss, along with shouts of 'OTP FOR THE WIN!' and 'MY STUCKY FEELS!'

* * *

Fury didn't even _want _to question why the entire Bus team was running buck naked through the streets of New York.

Nor why half of the Avengers, as well as his second-in-command, had joined them.

* * *

**Heh. That last part was quite spur-of-the moment. One can only assume alcohol was involved...**

**Read and review? The best one gets the footage of Stucky locked in the room! **


	24. Who Doesn't Have A Soul?

**And we're bacck! Midyears accomplished! Now just for the SATs and the AP exams...wooo...and my finals...still exam season, guys.**

**Shoutout to LeDbrite, deelzy, Tinyanywhere and Kechiko for following! :D**

**Best review of the week: GeekyChic123 and LeDbrite both get the footage of Stucky! (Even though LeDbrite doesn't ship Stucky all too much...)**

**Special thanks to Embarrassed-Elf for _kinda _helping me with the prompt...and by that I mean I fired off my thoughts without a response xD So yeah. **

* * *

"Nat, come on, give him back!" Clint pleaded one Thursday morning, as the tower's resident assassin held Cuddles over the roof's edge. "I swear he didn't mean to poop in your fruit platter!"

"Oh, this time, I'm sure," Natasha snarled back, wiggling the bunny with a flick or two of her wrist. "But what about last week in my eggs? And the week before on my peanut butter and jelly sandwich? And let's not forget the time he had diarrhea _on my waffles_. That's right, you remember the morning," she muttered menacingly to the bunny, who'd let out a small squeak. "The Belgian waffles that Steve made me."

"Cuddles wasn't even in my care that morning of the waffles!" Clint exclaimed, holding his hands out for his beloved bunny. "Tony had him that morning!"

"Did he then?" Natasha glowered. She jerked Cuddles once. "Then remind me to go kill Tony when I'm done with you here." The archer had tears streaming down his face at this point, terrified for the life of his favorite pet. Not that Mr. Fluffernutter had to know.

"Nat, PLEASE! I'll do anything!" A gust of wind blew by, swaying Cuddles precariously in Natasha's grip, where she'd been holding him by the tail. "Just don't kill Cuddles!"

"God, you've gone soft. I need Fury to send you on a mission to a place with an unpronounceable name," she scoffed, casually throwing the bunny back to Clint, who clutched it tightly to his chest, weak with relief. "Maybe it'll toughen you back up." She headed inside, passing the sobbing hero on his knees, giving him a pat on the head.

"EVERYBODY RUN!" was the exclamation she was greeted with when she entered back into the living room. "SHE'S COMING TO STEAL YOUR SOUL!" That voice sounded suspiciously like Tony's...

"Stark, if I'd wanted to steal your soul, I would've done it a long time ago," she deadpanned after him, his silhouette a puff of smoke in the air. "And why would I want your soul, anyways?"

"Because you don't have one, _duh_," Tony stated like it was obvious. "You're a ginger. By default, you, Natashalie, do not have a soul."

"For the record, Stark, I wouldn't go after your soul," Natasha rolled her emerald eyes at the billionaire. "Your soul's too sour. You really think I want to know what being a Stark's like _all the time?_"

"Well, why not?" Tony proclaimed. "I am a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, after all. Who _wouldn't _want to be me?"

"Me." she stated simply, casually flicking out a knife. Tony gulped. "Because you oh-so-innocently let Cuddles loose the morning he pooped in the Belgian waffles Steve had made for me that one time." She twirled the blade once in her right hand, the metal glinting off of the sunlight. "I'll give you a five-minute headstart. I'll use it to call Pepper and have her arrange your funeral."

_And the Guinness Book of World Records, too, apparently. I think that's the fastest anyone's ever run a hundred feet. _"JARVIS, what's the number for the world record place?"

* * *

"So Stark actually believed that you were going to kill him this time," Steve chuckled later at lunch. "It only took...what, a hundred and three other times to convince him you could do it?"

"A hundred and four," Natasha corrected him, grinning slyly as she popped a fry into her mouth. "And apparently he thought I was out for his soul this time."

"What, just because you're a ginger doesn't mean you have a soul?" She raised an eyebrow at him, going for two fries at once. "That's ridiculous, Nat. Of course you have a soul. I've seen it myself."

"What, soul music, soul food?" she snorted, eating another fry. "Yeah, right. I think my soul got taken out in the Red Room with my ability to have kids. Although I will not deny I can make a pretty good gumbo."

Steve had to open and close his mouth for a few seconds, gaping like a fish. "...I'm not even sure I should ask," he said finally, starting in on his hamburger. "Should I ask? I'm not going to ask." A few bites of hamburger later, he continued his point. "You have a soul. I think you do. No, correction-I _know _you do." With a sigh, Natasha put her burger down.

"I don't have a soul, Steve." The statement was tinged with a slight hint of sadness, a sign that she'd come to terms with the fact a long time ago. "I've killed too many people to have any bit of my soul left, okay?" Vulnerability was suddenly written into her eyes, a stark difference from the normal bravado that usually resided in it.

"I get it." His voice was soft and accepting as he inhaled the rest of his burger. "We won't talk about it anymore."

"Thanks." But on the inside, Steve's mind was spinning. He knew Natasha had a soul. It was what made Natasha-well, _Natasha_. And he was going to prove that she still indeed had a soul, come hell or high water.

He knew what he needed to do.

* * *

_What the hell..._ was the first thought in her brain as she came to, sleepily blinking the bleariness out of her eyes. _The hell am I?_ She was buckled in, she realized, and someone had taken the liberty of placing a fuzzy blue blanket over her body. _Well, wherever the hell I am, at least they gave me a blanket. _And by the metal handle digging into her thigh, they'd also left her with her weapons. Whatever this was, it was either a rookie kidnapping (which didn't explain how the hell they'd managed to get past Stark's defenses _and _Steve,), and expert kidnapping with purposeful means of escape (she wouldn't put it past anyone. Even if they'd given her a damn fuzzy blanket.) or...

"Oh. Nat. Glad to see you're awake."

...or she wasn't being kidnapped.

Natasha twisted herself into a seated position, turning to face the source of the voice. "Steve, what are we doing on-" Blanket, awful seats, tray table, less-than-stellar TV. All check. "An airplane?"

"We're going to Florida." The smile on his face was so radiant, she was sure the flight attendants in first class were fanning themselves. "New York knows you're soulless, but Florida doesn't. Especially not-" Steve pulled a voucher out of his pocket. "-the wonderful theme parks of Disney World, Sea World, and Universal Orlando." At the mention of the last park, Natasha's mouth fell open in shock.

"We are _not _going to Harry Potter world. We are _not_."

"Have you been Confunded?" He handed her the voucher, and she gingerly eased out the tickets. "Why would we not?"

"We're going to Harry Potter world." she exclaimed dumbly, still attempting to process. "We're. going. To Harry Potter World." Another thought struck her. "And minions! We're gonna meet minions! We're going to Harry Potter world and we're gonna meet minions!" Natasha couldn't help it. She was going into full fangirl mode. Steve chuckled. He didn't get to see her fangirl much-it was the whole purpose of the trip. After the whole 'Natasha being a ginger meant she had no soul' incident, he'd wanted to prove to her that she still indeed had a soul-and apparently a very childish one at that. "And _Shamu, _Steve. Harry Potter, minions, and SHAMU!"

"You know, I think I liked her better when she was asleep," an old man remarked dryly from behind them. Instantly, the grin was gone from Natasha's face, the Black Widow facade snapping back on in an instant as she turned around to give the man her coldest stare, seniority be damned.

"I know 27 ways to end you with my pinky finger. _Capische?_" She huffed and slumped back into the seat, turning to her boyfriend. "This was a bad idea."

"No, this was the best idea of the century," Steve argued gently, putting the armrest between their seats up so that she could cuddle into his side. "You have a soul, Nat. Sometimes it needs to be let out."

She was silent for a couple of minutes, snuggling into his side, his arm around her shoulders, before she answered him, voice muffled. "You know I love you, right?"

"To Asgard and back."

"You know I'd love you even more if you took Tony's credit card. We're buying all of the wizard crap."

"And here I thought it was because of my personality."

* * *

"Steve, it's seven AM," Natasha groaned the next morning as the hotel's alarm clock went off shrilly. "I thought this was a soul-searching vacation, not the military."

Steve, true to his military scheduling, was already up and brushing his teeth in the small but convenient bathroom. "Come on, Nat, I got early admission to the park. Get up, they open early at eight." Instantly, the assassin was wide awake, sprinting over to the corner of their room where they'd stashed their suitcases.

"You think the Harry Potter tank's too much?" she called to him, rummaging through her suitcase and unearthing a white tank that said 'Mischief managed' in black lettering.

"Nah. You and every fangirl there's going to look exactly the same." She just snorted and tossed a t-shirt at him, reveling in his shocked exclamation.

"Oh, come _on, _Nat!"

* * *

"I still can't believe you made me wear a minion t-shirt," Steve complained a half-hour later as they sat in the water taxi on the way to Islands of Adventure. He was wearing a faded blue t-shirt with four minions on it, each of them in the midst of letting out a note. 'Ba-ba-ba-ba-banana', it read. "I look like such a dork."

"All's fair in love and war," she replied cheekily, whipping out her camera and angling it so that both of them were in the shot, t-shirts included. "Now, come on. First shot of vacation." The resulting picture was rare: a smiling, carefree Natasha and an utterly besotted Steve. Happiness shown in her eyes, with just the smallest glimpse of ever-present mischief. She lowered the camera to see Steve grinning like an idiot, the smile reaching his eyes completely. "...what?"

"It's just...you," he answered simply, in the only way that he could. "You have a soul, despite, what you claim, and this trip is proving it already." The words were said not condescendingly, but only as an expression of complete and utter devotion. "It just makes me so glad that I have you."

"Don't tell Tony or Clint about my soul," she jokingly warned. "I'll never hear the end of it." But she was still melting on the inside as she slipped her small hand into his, a light breeze ruffling her hair. "But it's nice to know it's still there."

* * *

"I think I'm gonna faint," Natasha answered a short while later, as the two of them stood in front of a large, metal sign that read HOGSMEADE. "And not from heat exhaustion." She spritzed herself with the fan they'd gotten earlier. "Although it _is _getting pretty hot out here."

Steve snapped a picture at her gobsmacked expression, smiling to himself. As if possessed, Natasha moved forwards into the village, gazing wonderingly at the snow-covered rooftops. Her mouth had dropped open a long time ago, and he resisted the urge to tilt her chin so that it shut. Although he _did _have to admit that the scene was pretty awe-inspiring. Magical shops and eateries lined both sides of the street, their roofs rising high into the clear blue sky. A short distance ahead, he could make out the red and blue tracks of-oh dear Lord, was that a roller coaster? And last but not least, Hogwarts loomed in the distance, intimidating and comforting at the same time.

"I can _hear _the theme song in my head," Natasha told him, following his gaze up to the castle. Excited, she grabbed his hand and began to drag him down the street. "Come on. The Dragon Coasters await!"

Dragon Coasters?

* * *

"Is there any way I can back out of this?" Steve asked apprehensively as he and Natasha were strapped into the front row-the front!-and the harnesses began to go down.

"Nope. Not unless you want to cause an incident by blowing our covers and breaking out." She, on the other hand, appeared to be bouncing up and down with excitement. "Come on, Steve. It'll be fun! Plus, I heard that the red one was scarier than the blue one. And we're already on the blue one." Natasha wiggled her sneakered feet in excitement. "How bad can it get?"

* * *

_It's all for Nat, all for Nat, all for Nat..._ Next to him, she chuckled, relaxing back into her seat. Apparently Steve had been voicing his thoughts out loud.

"You already did the red one," she consoled him, grabbing his shaking hand. "The blue one's gonna be fine."

"We'll take up that argument when this is oveRRR!" His last word had deteriorated into a shout when the ride suddenly tipped them forwards and down, leaving both superheros to scream like their lives depended on it. Two corkscrews, upside-down banks, and an inverted loop later, Steve was stumbling off of the ride and down the path back to the village. "I think I'm gonna hurl."

"Hear ye, hear ye, all supervillains of the world," Natasha followed a few paces behind him, smirking endearedly. "How to defeat the great Captain America in one easy step: put him on a roller coaster."

"I heard that!"

* * *

"Is that picture talking? Holy shit, that picture's talking." With a whimper, she clutched Steve's arm tightly, giving him a glare that was lost in the dark as he chuckled. They'd commandeered the extremely long line to get into Hogwarts, only to have to wait in yet another line for the ride. But neither of them were complaining-the Forbidden Journey was the most popular ride in Hogsmeade.

"Come on, Nat. It's just a picture." Although he wouldn't say no to at least ten more minutes of the famous Black Widow being reduced to a quivering mess because of a talking picture. He tugged on her arm as the line started to move. "We're moving up. Let's go."

"Oh, thank Odin." They emerged into an equally dark room with more moving portraits. "You've got to me kidding me!"

* * *

"Nat? Nat, where are you?" As he furtively looked around the crowded candy shop for the telltale shock of red hair, Steve could already feel the AC blasting around the shop's mint green walls. Honeydukes seemed to have candy stacked up to the ceiling-Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Fudge Flies, Acid Pops-was that a fortune teller with Licorice Wands?

"Steve? I think we need to make a trip back to the hotel." A large pile of boxes came staggering towards him, and he frowned. Unless Loki had enchanted them or something, he was pretty sure boxes couldn't yet move in this day and age. A Chocolate Frog dropped from the precarious pile, and as he stooped down to pick it up, the pile of boxes swore. In Russian.

Never mind. It was only Natasha.

"You do realize we have to take an economy flight back, right?" he asked, taking a couple of boxes and bags out of her hands. Together, they staggered out into the sunlight, gradually making their way to the entrance.

"Can't you just get a QuinJet for the trip back?" she wondered, shifting slightly to balance the packages. "Or does SHIELD have no idea where we are?"

"SHIELD does. Tony doesn't," Steve grunted. "I'll call Coulson later." He shifted his arms. "Geez, Nat, what'd you buy? The entire store?"

"You really want me to answer that question, babe?"

* * *

"Two Cornish pasties, one chicken dinner, and a shepherd's pie," the waiter reeled off to Steve. "Three cases of Florean Fortescue's, some pie, and five cups of frozen butterbeer." He paused and looked up at Steve, who'd handed over Tony's sleek black credit card. "Who are we feeding, Captain America?"

Steve gave him a pointed look and a raised eyebrow.

"Seriously, man? That's awesome! No no no, no need." the guy said, now whispering conspiratorially. "I'll comp it for you."

* * *

"I don't understand how I went my life before drinking butterbeer," Natasha declared later, swigging down the last dregs of her third butterbeer. "This stuff is freaking amazing. Think we can get Tony to buy a cask of this stuff monthly from the park?"

"You take that up with him when we get back," Steve replied, grinning at her. She'd been upbeat all morning, even taking the time to sign some autographs for people who'd recognized her.

"I need a bathroom break," she told him, handing him her recently-started fourth butterbeer. "Can you hold my butterbeer for me?" Before he could even choke out an answer, she was already marching towards the bathroom. He shook his head. Some things never changed.

But it'd barely been thirty seconds before Natasha came charging back out of the facilities, a piece of toilet paper stuck her sneaker. She snatched the butterbeer out of Steve's hand and drank it down deeply, consuming half of it within ten seconds.

"Nat?" he asked concernedly. "What's wrong?" If something had happened in that bathroom to ruin their day, he was going to hunt down whoever had ruined it and set the Hulk on them. He knew Bruce would be perfectly willing.

"I needed that," she gasped, letting go of the straw and breathing in deeply. The look in her eyes as she turned to him was not one of fear or horror, but rather that one of excitement. "Steve, Moaning Myrtle was in the bathroom. _Moaning Myrtle._" Ah. It made so much more sense now...

* * *

"Okay, so it's been, like, five days without an incident," Natasha said to Steve four days later as they strolled down the avenues of Sea World. "Should we call Pepper and make sure they're not all dead?"

"I'm sure Hill or Coulson would call us if something was wrong," Steve reassured her. "Plus, I'm pretty sure Tony's blown something up and none of them want to tell us."

"You mean like the time he blew up Clint's nests and didn't tell him about it for a week?" The incident flashed by in her mind's eye, and she snickered. "That was an ugly month of pranks for all concerned."

"Tell me about it," he snorted. "I'm pretty sure I'm still washing glitter out of places where I least expect it. Without really paying attention, Natasha had lead Steve into an attraction, and only when he'd heard screams did he realize what was going on. "You did _not _just rope me into another roller coaster."

"Cheer up," she said sarcastic-cheerily. "You can do this one on your stomach."

Those were her famous last words.

* * *

"So, Nat," Steve said to her after the ride. "You gonna puke? 'Cause if so, I'm buying the picture they took of us on the roller coaster." Said assassin was looking a healthy shade of green, and her cheeks were actually puffed with the effort not to hurl. "Alright, you're gonna hurl." He gently led her over to a secluded corner with a clump of bushes, and she gratefully led the vomit go, Steve gently rubbing circles on her back as she continued to heave.

"If you tell anyone that I hurled because of a roller coaster," she threatened as he handed her a tissue to wipe her mouth, "I will find you and end you."

"Well, in that case, I should tell the world," he promised, pecking her lips slightly. "And no, I don't care that you just hurled up last night's dinner. That was a pretty bad soup, anyways. Let's get you a stuffed animal to cheer you up, shall we?" Natasha was still looking a bit despondent after the whole ordeal, so he steered her into a gift shop and handed her one of Tony's credit cards while he went to go buy the picture. He'd made it a habit to buy every single photo they took, from the rides to the character meet-and-greets. His favorite had been when she'd met Stitch, the expression on her face one for the ages. Of course, Natasha had thought it funny that there had been a Captain America lookalike at Universal, and the guy's face had been priceless when they'd let it slip that he was taking a picture with the _real _Captain America.

"Before you judge me, I couldn't only choose one," Natasha protested as she wandered out of the gift shop, arms laden with bags. "Plus, I got some gifts for Pepper, Bruce, Clint and Thor. And the Bus Team. I think Skye wanted a stuffed beluga."

He shook his head, more at her whimsical decision to buy out the gift shop more than anything. "This is gonna need a trip back to the hotel, isn't it?"

A stuffed Shamu's head nodded.

* * *

"Would you look at that," she commented back at the hotel, when Steve's phone started to blare Iggy Azalea. "Tony's finally decided to admit that he's blown something up." He snatched the phone up and opened it, answering it in a tone that wouldn't give away their location.

"Stark. You blown something up?"

"I don't know where the hell you two are," Tony's voice echoed through the speaker, "or what you two are doing, but we kind of need you at Sea World right now. Loki's decided to make a reappearance and make the penguins into his army." In the background, Thor's 'FOR ASGARD!' could be heard. "And yeah, you can tell Point Break's taking this seriously. He's had a thing for penguins for a while."

"We'll be there as soon as possible," Steve sighed, hanging up and turning to Natasha. Whatever bit of soul she'd shown slowly begun to slip away, replaced once again by the coldness that was the better-known Natasha Romanoff.

"Suit up," she said coldly, heading over to their suitcases and digging her catsuit out. "We should get there in as little time as possible."

_This couldn't be. _All the work he'd done in the last five days, working to prove she had a soul-gone. He hurried over to where she was quickly attaching weapons to her person, grabbing her wrists to halt her motions. _He wasn't about to let this happen. _

"Nat." At that, she stopped and looked back up at him, curiosity mirrored in her eyes. "Don't let yourself forget that you have a soul." The last word was almost a beg. "_Please._" Steve didn't think he could take it if she went back to her empty shell of a shell.

"You silly, silly man," she whispered, caressing his face, stretching up to kiss his cheek. When she pulled back, he could see everything he'd done. "You _are _my soul. Tony and Clint just can't know that." With a blink, Natasha's cold face was back, but her voice was warmer. "So if you die today, I really have no soul." As she returned back to changing, she sent him a glance. "Plus, I'm gonna need someone to drink all that butterbeer with."

He'd drink all of the butterbeer in the world to be with her.

* * *

"Glad you two lovebirds could finally show up!" Tony called to them when both Steve and Natasha showed up at the scene, thoroughly disgusted with the behavior of the park staff. Natasha'd been stopped at security and had been frisked down before they'd realized she was Black Widow, _not _someone bent on murdering Shamu.

"Not my fault," Natasha shot back at him, easily dodging a penguin's launch at her. "Security was being a Stark."

"I take offense to that," he snorted, before launching into semantics. "Okay, here's the thing: Point Break has a thing for the penguins, don't ask me why, so we can't kill them. Plus, some of them come for higher prices than I can currently afford right now, thanks to someone taking a large amount of money out for what seems like souvenirs..." With that, Tony glared at Natasha, who simply rolled her eyes back at him.

"So why don't we just blow up Loki's center of operations?" she questioned, shrugging as she met Tony's scandalized look.

"You really _do _have no soul, Natashalie." She just shrugged again.

"Not like you're ever going to find out, Stark." Tony turned to Steve, who was grinning like a madman.

"Am I missing something, Capsicle?"

BOOM.

"The fact that you just blew up the penguin attraction?" The ride began to crumble in on itself, park staff screaming and running for safety. Around them, penguins began to shake themselves, clearly confused at what had just transpired.

"I just blew up the penguin attraction." Tony was shaking. "Shit, Point Break's going to kill me. Can you imagine all of the penguins I killed?"

"Yes and no," Clint wandered over, effortlessly scooping up a few penguins in the process and putting them into a temporary enclosure. "We have a problem. When you blew up the exhibit, there were still some penguins trapped inside and now we can't get them out." He winced. "They're the _expensive_ ones." The rumble of earth told them Thor was coming to join the party. "And Thor's going to be pissed unless you save them. You may or may not be in danger of breaking an Asgardian alliance. Which we really do need now that SHIELD's gone to shit."

"Lady Romanoff!" Thor exclaimed, skidding to a stop in front of the confused spy. "You must save the penguins trapped inside! You are the only one..." He struggled to find the appropriate expression. "...capable of fitting through the cracks!" Natasha huffed and sighed, softening a bit at Thor's puppy eyes.

"Fine, Thor. I'll do it. But don't expect me to be fawning over the penguin or anything. Odin knows you do that enough for all of us on a daily basis." He simply nodded, and she went into the rubble.

* * *

_Was that dust...? _A strange dust wafted into the air, causing Natasha to pause and hack her lungs out. _Please tell me Tony didn't liquidize the penguin poop and I've inhaled it in somehow_.

SQUISH.

_Never mind. Penguin poop hasn't been aerosolized yet. And I liked these sneakers. They're the only ones that got to see Captain America scared on a roller coaster. _

"Squeak!"

"Ah, shit, penguin," she muttered, heaving up a particularly large piece of rubble to see a baby penguin flailing around, clearly unable to support itself. "And you're a baby penguin, too. You're gonna be hell on my rep." Gently, she picked it up, cradling it in her arms as she began to examine the rubble, looking for a way out. "Brucie's gonna have to take a look at you, won't he?" she cooed to the penguin, who was now contentedly snuggling into her arms. "Yes he will, Stevie Junior, won't he?" A quick glance revealed that the penguin had no serious injuries. Good. She didn't want to risk anyone else having possession of Stevie Junior.

"Did I just hear Stevie Junior?" A large piece of rubble was shifted, and suddenly, sunlight streamed in, along with Steve's head. Or maybe the glow was just from his presence. Natasha didn't really know. "Nat, did you just name a _penguin _Stevie Junior?"

"Uh, of course not," she spluttered, trying to recover her persona. "It was on his collar." A non-existent collar, she noticed a second too late.

"Chill." He grinned. "Secret's safe with me. I still want that butterbeer."

* * *

"But I have a special bond with penguins!" Thor protested a week later, as he and Natasha faced off in the living room, Stevie Junior (as he'd been unofficially named) standing in between them. "Therefore it is only right that I take custody of the creature!"

"You try and take this penguin, Thor, you'll find yourself hanging from the roof by the edge of your cape," Natasha threatened, anger flashing in her eyes. "By a flimsy _steak knife_. With your precious hammer in the Hulk containment chamber. And you know what that means." She was almost a foot shorter than he was, but just as threatening. He recoiled from her glare, putting his hands up in a gesture of peace.

"I concede, Lady Romanoff. The penguin is yours." As if on cue, Stevie Junior waddled towards Natasha, and she scooped him up, stomping off to her room.

"You still never told me why you named him Stevie Junior," Steve told her back on their floor, grinning as she rocked the penguin back and forth, singing to it quietly.

"He reminded me that I had a soul," Natasha admitted quietly in response, looking into his bright blue eyes. "Just like you did."

* * *

**MY FEELS WORKED THEIR WAY IN. Don't ask me how, don't ask me why, they just did. **

**Review please? Best one gets a decent amount of the souvenirs Nat bought during the trip! :D**


	25. The Periodic Table of Elements

**Guess who got four wisdom teeth taken out? And guess who's also had two snow days with a third on the way? There's a lot of free time, I have to say. Finals, all of this snow..**

**Something to mention to any readers shipping Clintasha for the next (four-ish) weeks: February 9-28 is Romanogers Appreciation Month. (On tumblr, nontheless, but I'm still doing my part because I'm not on tumblr.) And because Romanogers is a viable ship in my book (excuse the bias and Romanogers banners in my room), the next four chapters will be Romanogers. Just warning you guys now. **

**Shoutout to rosebard, Evestar44, and for following! **

**And the winner of all of those souvenirs (and an hour with Stevie Junior, hey, Nat was willing) is GeekyChic123! Glad I got to cheer you up! :) (And that's two in a row for you. Hmm...)**

* * *

"_There's hydrogen and helium then lithium beryllium, boron carbon everywhere, nitrogen all through the air, and oxygen so you can breathe and fluorine for your pretty teeth, neon to light up the sky, sodium for salty times..."_

"Wanna remind me why we set that as the alarm?" Bruce moaned as the alarm clock went off, gingerly pressing the snooze button and stumbling out of his bunker in the lab. "I mean, we only use it every so often when we pass out in the lab, but..."

"I didn't set it for _all the time, _Brucie, that'd be weird!" Tony exclaimed, sounding far too chipper for someone who'd just been presumably awakened by the Periodic Table of Elements. "Today's the day we put together the periodic table of elements! Remember? We've been planning this for weeks!"

"You've gotten all of the delicate elements, then?" Bruce asked, swinging both feet out of his bunk, standing up to face Tony, who was still in his upper bunk, staring at the ceiling.

"Shipped them all in yesterday," he confirmed. "And we've got that other project-just remember that it's a _top secret project_, Brucie. No one, and I mean, NO ONE, can know about it."

"You've been planning this for what, three months now?" Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his best friend. "You've told me about the project so many times I don't think I _could _forget about it."

"Then we'd better get going!" In one fluid motion, Tony jumped from his top bunk to the ground, landing without a sound. "We only have all day if we don't want these elements to destabilize and possibly blow up the tower..."

_That _got Bruce on his feet.

* * *

**Oxygen **

It was early in the morning, Clint realized, and Tony may or may not have put hallucinogens into his coffee, but there was no way that he was seeing what he was seeing. Real or not, there was just no way that this was happening.

Bruce Banner, of all people, was running around the living room with a jar. A glass jar that was currently open, with Bruce holding it open above his head. At nine in the morning. This was time usually reserved for the inhaling of coffee (or alcohol, in Tony's case, depending on the circumstances) and Steve's daily breakfasts. It was definitely way too early to try and accomplish something. Much less running around the room with an open glass jar above your head.

"Bruce?" he murmured, drinking some more coffee to try and dispel the image of the scientist running around the room like a maniac. "What the hell are you doing? It's way too early to be doing productive things. Except if you're Steve. Then it's a crime to still be in bed."

Bruce didn't stop running as he answered Clint, sounding slightly winded. "Trying to get oxygen. I need it in this jar." The archer snorted into his coffee, some of it splashing into his face.

"I got that," he replied, raising an eyebrow as he came to terms with the fact that what he was seeing was indeed real. "But you're already breathing. Why would you need oxygen?" A thought struck him. "Unless you've got Tony on his deathbed in the lab or something. Then I'd congratulate you and help you get out of the country. Pepper would _hate _you."

"Hm. You're right, Tony wouldn't notice the difference." It was like Bruce hadn't even heard the second part of Clint's advice (which, in his opinion, was the better half of it). Instead, he lowered the jar, inhaled deeply, and blew air into the jar. The metal cap was then snapped onto the jar, and Bruce shrugged and headed down to the lab. "Thanks, Clint."

"You're welcome...?" Nope. Still _way _too early in the morning to even _think _about what they were up to. "I'm just gonna chalk it up to Science!Bros and leave it at that..." Still thoroughly confused, Clint got off of his kitchen stool and went to make another cup of coffee. Some things were better off not understanding.

* * *

**Arsenic**

"Why," Pepper muttered to herself, massaging her temples. "It's not even eleven. I think that's a new record." For some reason or another, she'd just received a call from the FBI, containing several references to elements she had no idea about-except for arsenic. That one she understood. She'd assured the agency that she'd take care of it, that no, Tony was not planning to kill anyone (at least to her knowledge), and that his actions were purely harmless.

Or so she hoped. There was no telling with Tony Stark.

"Tony, whatever it is you're doing, don't do it." was all she said as she was let into the lab, after a girly shriek from Bruce and several whispered commands of 'No, put it over there! No, wait! Not next to the liquid nitrogen!' Her frazzled boyfriend then met her at the door with a look of a child trying to cover up a crime.

"Who said I was doing anything, Pep? Because I can totally assure you what whatever you think it is, it's perfectly legal and I was sober when I thought of the idea because you know my drunk ideas are really stupid and-"

She cut off his babbling with a hand motion. "I just want to know why the hell you ordered arsenic, Tony. Well," she corrected, "myself and the FBI. I'm pretty sure you know what arsenic does, so I really hope you're not planning on poisoning anyone-"

"I told you it was a bad idea!" Bruce echoed from somewhere within the depths of the lab. "It totally looks like you're going to kill someone!" Several metal parts shifted, one with a resoundingly large crash, and Pepper looked over in concern, her attention wavering from Tony for a second. "I'm good!" he called after several seconds of silence. Her glare shifted back to Tony, who was beginning to rock back and forth.

"And for God's sake, you'd better not be thinking about poisoning Natasha. I know that her prank abandoning you to the paparazzi was a little cruel, but that doesn't warrant poisoning a valuable member of the Avengers that you're going to need in the future-"

"Come on, Pepper, you thought it was great." Natasha's smirk could be heard through the speaker as she addressed the duo. Bruce let out another shriek in the background, several more pieces of metal crashing to the ground. "Sorry, Bruce. You good?"

"I'm good! But one more shock and I swear I'm Hulking out."

"Then I'd better make this quick," Natasha answered. "For starters, Stark, you can't poison me. Super serum. Not as good as Rogers', but still good at expelling most toxins. And secondly, if you'd even _thought _about poisoning me, you'd have been dead a long time ago. My condolences to Pepper," she tacked on as an afterthought as the blonde glared at the speaker. "That is all. Widow out." With that, a loud screech could be heard as Natasha dropped the mic.

"Be fully aware I've got my eye on you," Pepper threatened as she headed out of the lab, her heels clicking against the stairs. "Should you order any more dangerous elements, _I will know_." Tony chuckled as she disappeared, starting to make his way back into the depths of his lab to look for Bruce.

"If only she knew."

* * *

**Helium**

There was the laughing gas, there was the pressurized air, there was the sex pollen (he moved that aside gingerly, should he set it off and spend the day in the med wing), the shaving cream (what the hell was that doing there?) and finally, the helium. Bruce lugged the container out by its dispenser pipe and set it on the floor, squatting cross-legged at it. He looked to the left, then to the right. He'd always wondered what sucking helium would make him sound like. _Why not give it a shot? _

"Hi, I'm Theodore!" At that, Clint peered in from the vents, an even more confused look on his face. If he'd thought that what had transpired that morning was strange, this ranked higher than that on the scale. Should that even be possible. "Where's Simon and Alvin?"

"Bruce, did you suck helium?" he asked, dropping into the lab and next to the scientist. Bruce let out a squeaky shout, jumping about an inch in the air. "Cause if you did, I want in. I want to be able to annoy Tasha the next time I see her with a chipmunk song. She still refuses to watch it with me." Without waiting for a response, he reached for the tube, inhaling a rush of helium. "Wow, that really hits the spot!" he squeaked. "I sound exactly like Simon!"

"It would make sense that Tony's Alvin, though," Bruce squeaked in response. "He's red _and _arrogant."

"Did I hear my name in an adorable squeaky voice?" Tony asked, finding the two of them sitting near the helium canister. He picked up the tube and blew helium into his mouth, and just like that, Alvin and the Chipmunks was complete. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, Alvin has arrived!"

Together, they began to croon, "Christmas, Christmas time is here, time for joy and time for cheer..." One floor above, Natasha paused in a purposeful walk towards the lab when she heard the sound of chipmunks singing from the vent. Ten feet behind her, Steve also stopped, having heard the voices as well.

"Is that..." he began.

"Unfortunately," she deadpanned. "If anyone asks, I was on a mission, SHIELD classified," was all she said before she drew a knife and headed down to the lab. Steve sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair-they really needed to work on how many times Natasha threatened the Science!Bros per week-and went to go find Pepper.

"Before you ask," aforementioned CEO said as she hurried into the room, frustration clearly evident on her face, "I'm already on my way down to deal with it. I am also aware Natasha will most likely kill them before I even make it into the lab." As if to prove her point, there was a chorus of screams.

* * *

**Aluminum**

"I present to you, the entire stock of aluminum foil present in the tower!" Tony exclaimed squeakily. He held up a large, shiny ball of tinfoil, glistening under the lights of the lab. "This should be more than enough for the aluminum spot." With a grand gesture, he perched the ball on the stand labeled _Aluminum _and grinned proudly. "I never knew we had so much tinfoil."

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE TINFOIL?!" Natasha's clearly frenzied voice could be heard through the vents, followed by the slamming of drawers and the rattling of what could only be kitchen utensils. "I SWEAR WE JUST BOUGHT SOME!"

"Wonder what Natasha wants the tinfoil for," Bruce wondered mildly, securing lithium batteries onto their stand. "Hopefully she's not rigging something up that'll electrocute us all. Especially after she went after Clint like a rabid lion for singing Alvin and the Chipmunks."

Meanwhile, the redheaded assassin was pacing up and down the kitchen, scowling at her large metal bowl full of cookie dough. Yes, she was making cookies. And yes, she was responsible for that mystery batch of cookies that appeared at SHIELD's monthly meetings. But it looked like there wouldn't be any at tomorrow's meeting, because there _sure as hell wasn't any tinfoil! _

Sighing, she climbed up into the vents, being careful not to make a sound. It was Clint's time of the month, after all...Soon, she reached the vent opening with the lab. Shoving the cover aside and letting it fall onto the ground with a large clatter, Natasha mentally prepared herself for her tirade.

"STARK! WHERE'S THE GODDAMN TINFOIL?" Guiltily, Tony looked up and gestured wordlessly to the large ball of tinfoil in the corner. It twinkled merrily at her, only deepening her scowl. "Why the hell do you have it in a giant-ass ball?"

"It's got more balls than you'll ever have," he proclaimed seriously, and Bruce actually skittered away to hide in a corner at that. "Besides, Natashalie, why do _you _need the tinfoil, anyways? Are you baking or something?"

She froze at that. No way in _hell _was Tony going to know about that. It was up on her list somewhere between the number of people she'd killed and the fact that she'd known Clint in a past life. "I use it to prevent myself from being brainwashed by aliens," she quipped, stowing away the insecurity instead. "Tinfoil hats-I thought you knew better, Tony, especially after New York, no?"

He was about to open his mouth and reply when another shout, this time more masculine and squeaky, echoed through the vents. "ROMANOFF!"

"_Oh, shit._" was Natasha's quiet swear as she registered the thought that her life was now in danger of ending from Clint's VPMS. His _chipmunk _VPMS. "We'll continue this conversation later, Alvin," she said to Tony, before scurrying off into the maze known as the tower's ventilation system.

"You can come out now, Theodore," Tony squeaked to Bruce, who slowly emerged from a large block of concrete. "...and did she just call me Alvin?"

* * *

**Thorium**

"Friend Stark." If Thor was to say he was surprised to find Tony in his chambers, trying to lift Mjolnir, he would be lying. And lying was not in his repertoire, despite being related to the God of Mischief. Plus, Loki was adopted. That exempted much. "May I ask what you are trying to accomplish with Mjolnir?" It was with great effort that he refrained from adding, 'This time?'

"I need thorium," was all the scientist answered, still attempting to lift the mighty hammer. "You've said it yourself that whoever may lift the hammer is worthy of the power of Thor. Therefore, there _has _to be some thorium in the hammer. The element's named after you, for God's sake."

"Do you wish to know why, Friend Stark?" Thor rumbled, and at that, Tony stopped trying to wedge up the hammer, choosing to collapse on the floor next to it instead. "It was named for my namesake because only the truly worthy are able to find it and manipulate it without experiencing devastating effects. I believe there is a proper scientific explanation, but I prefer the Asgardian one." He gave Tony a long, hard look. "I do not believe that you are worthy of the element, Friend Stark."

"Oh, yeah?" Tony challenged, picking himself off of the floor and attempting to pick up the hammer again. "Then what do you say to the fact that I've already gotten a hand on your lovely hammer without 'anything devastating' happening to me?" He snorted. "I must be worthy, then."

"Do not dismiss yourself so quickly, Friend Stark." Suddenly, there was a loud _zap _and Tony went flying across the wall, hitting it with a puff of smoke. Joints cracked as the billionaire tried to reorient himself, and only succeeded in falling to the floor. As soon as he touched the floor, a long, white beard began to sprout out of his chin, in conjunction to his hair turning a dark shade of purple.

"I LOOK AWFUL!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet and running out the door. "PEPPER!" Thor chuckled to himself, easily picking up the hammer with one hand and heading out of his room, whistling.

"Hey, Thor!" Bruce greeted him when he was let into the lab. "Do you think you could do me a favor and we could borrow Mjolnir?" Strange, really. He'd sent Tony to retrieve it not ten minutes ago and hadn't seen him since-that Thor was showing up with the hammer meant something had gone wrong. _Really _wrong, since nothing could deter Tony from finishing the project.

"You are amusing, Friend Banner," Thor chuckled, swinging Mjolnir in a vertical arc in his right hand. "Friend Stark asked me the same question not so long ago." Upon seeing the label of _thorium, _he set down his hammer on it, curious as to what exactly its purpose for being there was.

"Yeah, about that." Bruce poked his head out of a large supply closet. "Have you seen Tony? I, uh, actually kind of sent him to try and steal your hammer about ten minutes ago?" The question was accompanied with the right about of sheepish to make it seem believable. "Tell me he hasn't wound up in the medical wing. He'd kill me if he was in the medical wing."

"I fear not," Thor answered, "but there were some...drastic alterations to his appearance when he attempted to lift Mjolnir for the sake of his own gain." When Bruce gave him a shrug, he answered, "He has a beard of white and follicles of purple."

"Tony has purple hair and a beard." Bruce stated in disbelief. The god nodded. "Hell, he's not going to get anywhere on his special project looking like that." He went back to work, muttering to himself, "A _beard_...wonder how he's going to get past that."

"Friend Banner." Thor called to him as he lugged a giant glass container of liquid out of a closet. "Do you happen to know the scientific properties of my element? I was told it was quite complicated on Asgard. Would you, perhaps, be able to explain it to me?"

"Unfortunately, not today, my friend," Bruce replied, setting down the container on a perch with the label _phosphorous _on it. "It would take a lot of explaining of the periodic table and its trends-which is pretty much three months worth of chemistry that I do _not _have the time to condense right now. Tell you what," he said to Thor, who looked crestfallen. "Go do some basic research on things like periodic trends and electronegativity. Then we'll talk."

"My friend, I shall not fail in this quest!" Thor exclaimed heartily, jauntily sauntering out of the lab. As soon as he left, Tony slunk in meekly, with an exact replica of Thor's description.

"I know. It's purple. And I have a beard. I asked one of the lab rats downstairs to try and work on it."

* * *

**Palladium**

"Natasha, could I talk to you for a minute?" Pepper stepped cautiously into the kitchen, where the spy was feverishly unrolling wax paper onto trays, cursing Tony under her breath as she went. In Russian. "I know you're kind of busy preparing for the SHIELD monthly meeting and all, but..."

Natasha's head whipped up so fast Pepper was surprised she didn't get whiplash. "Who told you about that?" She was going to _kill _May the next time she saw her. Cooking was an activity the two agents did together in their free time. Not that they didn't love Bobbi and Hill, it was just that those two had a habit of combusting everything and nothing...

"You don't think I've figured it out by now, Nat? Steve doesn't even touch the baking ingredients, Clint avoids the kitchen altogether except for coffee, Bruce does the same as Clint except for tea, and whenever Tony wants to go the kitchen, he'll send me." She gave a short laugh. "Obviously, you're the only one left who does any amount of baking in here. Of course I figured out it was you." Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't have to kill May. It would've made things a lot more difficult within SHIELD.

"Fine, you've got me," She threw her hands up with a sigh, dusting them off on her navy blue jeans. "What's up?"

"I think Tony's trying to do himself in." Pepper paused. "Again." Instantly, it was from Natasha Romanoff to Natalie Rushman once more.

"What makes you say that?" The question in itself wasn't probing, just brutally honest with just the slightest hint of concern. Although Natasha would've never admitted to the concern. It was just like the baking. Some things were just better left out for the sake of her reputation.

"He just asked me where the palladium was. You know what happened last time when he needed palladium." There was a tinge of worry in Pepper's voice, and while she attempted to pass it off as nonchalance, she was a _lot _worse at hiding her feelings than Natasha was. "What if he's dying again, Natasha?"

BOOM.

"I don't think he's dying," Natasha quipped dryly, all concern gone from her voice. "If he was dying, I think he'd be a little more subtle about it. I don't think it would involve explosions from the lab. Remember the last time he tried to tell you he was dying?"

"I don't see any omelettes around, that is true..."

* * *

**Potassium**

"Bruce! Please tell me you didn't order a monkey!" Not for the first time, Bruce felt a slight twinge of guilt at all he and Tony were putting Pepper through that day. It wouldn't have been enough for any normal person to handle, and to say that Pepper was close to falling apart was saying something.

Still, whenever Tony did anything, he did it to every extreme he could. And this was no exception. Pepper would understand later. That is, if Tony managed to make his facial hair turn back to a normal color.

"Fitz isn't even here! It wouldn't make sense to even pretend we've got a monkey on backorder!" he called back to the CEO, and swore that he could hear a faint sigh of relief. Unruly Avengers were one thing, but a monkey was just a whole other level Pepper was _not _prepared to deal with. "Not to mention that Simmons would absolutely kill me..."

"Then I have to ask." Pepper swung right into the lab this time, not even bothering to punch in her code. "What's with all of the bananas?" Bruce was glad he and Tony'd taken the hindsight to shove the entire display under a large gray tarp. He had a feeling Pepper would _not_ have reacted well to seeing all of the elements on display like that.

"Oh, hey, the bananas are here!" came the exclamation of Clint. After they'd all done helium together, the Science!Bros had had no choice but to fill the archer in on what was going on. (The whole 'we're building a periodic table' thing. Not a word had been said about the special project.) "TONY, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE FOR THE BANANAS OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GONNA EAT THEM ALL!"

There was nothing but the response of some shrieks. All three of them turned pale; the likelihood of this turning out well was not good. It was Pepper who advanced first, moving slowly to the corner where they'd heard the shrieks. "Tony? Is that you?"

More shrieks. Followed by some (angry, Bruce guessed) jumping up and down. "So it _is _Tony," he breathed, then turned on Clint. "I told you those arrowheads were still in testing, Barton!"

Clint threw his hands up in defense. "He was in my vents!"

* * *

**Gold**

"You got kicked out, didn't you?" was the amused reply of Natasha as Clint sullenly nursed a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen, looking thoroughly depressed. "I knew it was only a matter of time."

"So maybe I turned Stark into a monkey," Clint replied churlishly, stirring the large mound of whipped cream into his drink. "He looked better as a monkey, anyways. And how was I supposed to know that those weren't the giraffe arrowheads?" A timer _dinged_, but neither of them paid attention to it, Natasha only reaching over casually to turn the oven off. Just then, Tony ran past them, clutching a large heap of something shiny-and golden. They both stared at him as he ran past, first comprehending that Tony'd been reverted back to human form, and that there was a lack of beard, as well as purple hair.

"Think he's gonna propose to Pepper?" Natasha asked after a short while. "I mean, that _was _a large chunk of gold..."

They paused and looked at each other, one eyebrow raised at the fact that Natasha had even _thought _Tony would've done something like that. Then, as if in unison, they slapped their knees in unison and burst out laughing a la The Spongebob Squarepants movie. Clint had to put down his hot chocolate for fear of spilling it.

They were still laughing when Steve got into the room, looking sweaty and exhausted. He paused at the sight of the two normally emotionless assassins doubled over and laughing so hard they were gasping. "What's going on?"

"We actually-" Natasha was hiccuping at this point. "entertained-_hicc_-the thought of-_ha!_-Stark proposing to Pepper," Clint had fallen off of his chair and was now rolling on the floor maniacally. Steve watched the two of them laugh hysterically for another thirty seconds, before admitting,

"Good one," and heading off to his room to take a shower.

Because the idea of Tony proposing to Pepper was absolutely absurd. It was like Clint and Maria Hill getting together. It just _didn't _happen.

...Right?

"Brucie, I got the gold!" Tony dashed into the lab, out of breath like he'd just ran a hundred-meter dash. Which, to get past Clint and Natasha without facing serious interrogation, required something of that amount of speed. "Can you carve it out?"

Bruce cracked his knuckles, itching to pick up a laser cutter. "Let's get the hell to work."

* * *

**Copper**

"Tony, if your idea of acting poor is planning to pay everyone in pennies, it's not going to work." an unamused Steve told him as Tony headed from the elevator to the lab, a large jar of pennies in his hand. "It'll just piss them off. And I wouldn't leave pennies in Clint's vents, either."

"That is an _awful _way to live, Capsicle," Tony answered him, turning around to face him without even missing a step. "You mean to tell me that's the way you all lived back then? Paid each other in pennies and hoped no one messed up their math?"

"No, but that's how Clint lived, and leaving pennies in his vents would just remind him of his childhood days. Plus, I'm ninety-nine percent sure he's listening to this conversation," Steve answered seriously, gesturing up the metal grates where he was sure the archer was perched, eavesdropping.

"It was pennies and dimes, but that's about the same thing," Clint's voice echoed from the vents. "Am I still allowed to beat him up, Steve?" Tony had pure fear written on his face, and dashed down to the labs without another word, the jar of pennies jangling in his arms.

Steve looked up at Clint in grudging admiration. "Nice one, Barton. Don't tell Stark that I lived on quarters for a year once. Not exactly the proudest year of my life." The archer gave him a mock salute in response.

"Deal. As long as you don't tell Tony that I used to dig through half-eaten popcorn to see if anyone had dropped coins into it. How was I supposed to know people didn't put coins into their food?"

"_Really, _Barton?" Natasha asked, striding into the kitchen, glancing at the timer before stopping to give Clint a stare. "You thought people dropped coins into their food? And into _popcorn_, of all things?"

"That's what they taught me!" Clint defended. "When in doubt, look into the food! There's always going to be stuff in the food! Plus, it worked that one time," he said offhandedly to Steve. "Someone once lost a filling in their popcorn once. Ruby, diamond and emerald. It was great."

"Whatever," Natasha rolled her eyes. "You were still dumb as a rock back then." She strode off to the elevator, the doors opening.

"At least I had a childhood!"

Steve just left. He didn't want to be the epicenter of the weekly non-gym sparring session. Goodness knows he'd seen enough of those to last him a lifetime.

* * *

**Carbon**

"So we're almost done with the display," Tony announced as he set a jar of geranium on its stand. "We just need carbon, nickel, and neon and then we're good!"

"I can get the neon," Bruce answered easily as he set a container full of hydrogen gas onto its stand. "Can you get the nickel?"

"Yeah, and the carbon's easy," Tony replied offhandedly. "Everyone's made of carbon. So all I have to do is go chop off something of someone's."

"TONY, DON'T-!" But it was already too late. Tony had grabbed a chainsaw and was already raring to go out the lab door. Panicked, Bruce ran over to the intercom system. "Attention Avengers, _this is not a drill. _Tony Stark has gone rogue and is armed with a large red chainsaw. Assume danger to society. Must be put down. I repeat, _this is not a drill._" With that, he released the button and ran to get one of the Tasers Darcy had left on her last visit to the Tower. Rogue or not, he'd rather not have to Hulk out onto his best friend.

"This is a joke, right?" Natasha asked, slapping down a tray of cookies onto the kitchen island with a loud, metallic SLAP. "I just got this tray out of the oven when they were done thirty minutes ago, and now Stark's gone rogue with a chainsaw?" On cue, Tony ran into the kitchen, baring his chainsaw at Natasha. She just raised an eyebrow at him. "You really wanna come after me with a chainsaw, Stark?" Recognition seemed to flare in his eyes at the prospect of death, and he moved on, seeking his next target.

A target he never got to, for one of Clint's tranquilizing arrows nabbed him into the back. Where Clint _actually _was, no one knew. Tony collapsed to the ground, chainsaw still buzzing. With a look of disgust on her face, Natasha withdrew a pistol and shot the chainsaw, causing the noise to mercifully die down.

"At least we didn't have to call in Thor. Or Steve," Bruce said as he dashed into the kitchen, fully-powered Taser in hand. At the sight of the Taser, Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Hey. I'd like to be able to defend myself without having to resort to the Other Guy sometimes, you know."

It was at that point that Steve ran into the room, shield in hand. Upon seeing the unconscious Tony on the floor, he sighed, shouldered his shield, and picked him up, carrying him to the couch. Following him, Natasha took the opportunity to smack Tony in the face. Several times.

"You just went after us with a goddamn chainsaw," she informed him when he came to. "Care to tell us why?"

"It was for science...?"

* * *

**Nickel**

"Hey, Bruce? How many hours we got until sunset?" Tony was feverishly sorting through a pile of metal objects, including several belt buckles, hairpins, and kitchen utensils. "Think we can finish this in time?"

"Well, after the hour and a half you spent in the medical wing, checking to make sure Clint's arrow didn't take you out completely, we have two hours until sunset," Bruce answered. "I've already made what you needed. It's sitting on the gold perch in the box. I still have to go get the neon."

"Yes, do pray tell, where _are _you going to get that anyways?" Tony asked, lifting another pile of metal objects out of a box. "No, better not use forks," he muttered to himself. "They might give off the wrong impression, and my standing's already bad enough as it is...I _really _hope that that hairpin doesn't have Thor's beard hair. And _geez, _Capsicle needs to have better taste in belts. At least he bought that snazzy fruit one...no, wait, that might be Legolas'..."

"STARK! WHERE ARE MY BELT BUCKLES?!" Steve stormed into the lab, looking devilishly handsome in a pressed white shirt and tan khakis. "I need them. Urgently." When Tony didn't respond, he pressed the matter like his shirt (no pun intended). "Like _yesterday _urgently."

"Aw, does Capsicle have a date?" Tony teased without looking up. "I supposed we can sacrifice just _one _buckle for the sake of your love life...they're over there," He gestured with an expansive hand to a large metal pile in the corner. "Might wanna try and make sure you pick a belt buckle that wasn't next to the hairpins. I think they have Thor's beard hair in them."

"At this rate, I think I'd rather just go with suspenders," Steve answered exasperatedly. "Oh, wait, but I can't, because you took _those, _too!"

"Oh, I didn't take apart the suspenders," Tony told him airily. "They're over next to the spoons. The worst thing you could probably say about them is that they've been in everyone's mouths." With a sigh, Steve went to to examine the pile for a pair of decent suspenders.

"STARK. I KNOW YOU STOLE THE WHISKS." Natasha hadn't even bothered to storm into the lab. She'd just opened a vent cover from the kitchen and had shouted into it instead, knowing that her voice would carry. "I NEEDED THOSE. FOR ODIN'S SAKE."

"You never answered the question last time," Bruce hollered back, the yelling making it hard to convey the innocence of his question. "What do you need them for." At that, Natasha's voice went quiet.

"Never mind. Just keep them." As she shoved the vent cover back into place, Bruce just shrugged. He'd give them to her if she just told him what she wanted with them.

"TONY! WHERE THE HELL ARE MY PAPER CLIPS?!" Looks like Pepper had taken a leaf out of Natasha's book and had simply settled for shouting through the vents. "YOU'D BETTER NOT HAVE MADE A GIANT PAPER CLIP CHAIN WITH THEM LIKE YOU DID LAST TIME!"

Bruce slowly turned to Tony, who was staring in the corner at the long chain of paper clips. "So...do you want to tell her or should I?"

"You do it. I've been confined to the couch for the next three weeks as it is for everything I've done today."

* * *

**Neon**

"I've got the last one!" Bruce announced as he strode into the lab, holding a large OPEN sign in his arms. "I bought this from the guy down the street." For once, Tony looked surprised, trying to figure out how exactly Bruce had made a purchase without an incident.

"Did you Hulk out on him?" he joked, taking the sign fro his best friend and placing it on its proper pedestal, calculating how many extension cords he'd need in order to make the sign light up. "Please tell me you didn't Hulk out on him. I don't need that today."

"No, I didn't, oh ye of little faith," Bruce snorted, grabbing several extension cords out of a box. "But I did promise him a photo with Iron Man the next time you show up for takeout."

"Dammit, Brucie, you didn't go to the _shwarma _place, did you? You _know _I always get mobbed at the shwarma place! The next time I go, the whole city's probably going to be there!" Tony groaned, on the verge of fake-crying. "Speaking of shwarma, you didn't happen to get any, did you?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." Bruce held up a white bag of takeout. "As soon as we finish this, it'll be almost sundown and the presentation can begin."

* * *

"Avengers (and Pep) report to the lab, please!" Tony announced into the P.A. "And no, I swear, this isn't going to look bad. I swear. Plus, it'll explain what Brucie and I have been doing all day."

"Does it explain you going rogue?" Clint muttered, being the first one to arrive in the lab. "I don't think it can explain you going rogue, Stark."

"It was all in the name of science, Legolas," Tony replied breezily, guiding Clint to a plush velvet chair in purple and black, sitting him down. "All the in the name of science." Steve was the next to arrive, still holding his shield in case Tony decided to go rogue once more. He was directed to a red, white and blue chair,

"I still want to know what happened to all of those whisks," Natasha walked in, scowling at the two scientists, while Bruce could only smile sheepishly and shrug. She plopped into her red and black chair without ceremony, crossing her arms as she waited for an explanation.

"All in due time, Natashalie. All in due time," Tony reassured her as Thor entered the lab. "Ah, Thor, buddy, so good to see you! We've procured a throne just for you, my friend," With that, Thor was seated in a red and gold chair, easily settling in. It didn't escape anyone's notice that the center chair, the one decked out in cream, was empty, presumably reserved for Pepper.

"This had better be quick, Tony-I'm still filing all of the paperwork you caused today. I still don't know what caused to you order fifty pounds of bananas."

"We ordered _fifty pounds of bananas?_" Tony turned to Bruce, flabbergasted. Bruce turned a funny shade of red.

"So it turns out the Other Guy has a thing for bananas..."

"Oh. Living expense." Pepper shrugged. "It's even tax-deductible. In that case, all of the paperwork's done."

"Even the one about the arsenic?"

"Even the one about the arsenic. Hell, I finished that one somewhere between when I freaked out on Natasha about the palladium and the bananas."

"Then, without further ado, may Bruce and I present, the Periodic Table of Elements!" Tony pulled the large gray tarp off of the display, started the music, and the two of them began to sing.

"_There's_ _hydrogen and helium, then lithium, beryllium_

_Boron, carbon everywhere,_

_Nitrogen all through the air_

_With oxygen so you can breathe_

_And fluorine for your pretty teeth_

_Neon to light up the signs,_

_Sodium for salty times_

_Magnesium, aluminum, silicon, Phosphorus,_

_Then sulfur, chlorine and argon_

_Potassium and calcium so you'll grow strong_

_Scandium, titanium, vanadium, and chromium and Manganese_

_This is the Periodic Table, noble gases stable,_

_Halogens and alkali react aggressively_

_Each period we'll see new outer shells_

_While electrons are added moving to the right_

_Iron is the 26th Then cobalt, nickel coins you get_

_Copper zinc and gallium_

_Germanium and arsenic_

_Selenium and bromine film_

_While krypton helps light up your room_

_Rubidium and strontium then Yttrium, zirconium_

_Niobium, Molybdenum, Technetium_

_Ruthenium, Rhodium, Palladium_

_Silverware then cadmium and indium_

_Tin cans, Antimony, then Tellurium and_

_Iodine and xenon and then Caesium and_

_Barium is 56, and this is where the table splits_

_Where lanthanides have just begun_

_Lanthanum Cerium and Praseodymium_

_Neodymium's next too, promethium then 62,_

_Samarium, Europium, Gadolinium and Terbium,_

_Dysprosium, Holmium, Erbium, Thulium, Ytterbium, Lutetium_

_Hafnium, then tantalum, tungsten then we're on to_

_Rhenium, osmium and iridium_

_Platinum, all to make you rich till you grow old_

_Mercury to tell you when it's really cold_

_Thallium and lead then bismuth for your tummy_

_Polonium, astatine would not be yummy_

_Radon, Francium will last a little time_

_Radium, then actinides at 89_

_This is the Periodic Table, noble gases stable,_

_Halogens and alkali react aggressively_

_Each period we'll see new outer shells_

_While electrons are to the right_

_Actinium, Thorium, Protactinium_

_Uranium, Neptunium, Plutonium_

_Americium Curium Berkelium Californium_

_Einsteinium Fermium Mendelevium Nobelium_

_Lawrencium Rutherfordium Dubnium Seaborgium_

_Bohrium Hassium then Meinerium Darmstadtium_

_Roentgenium Copernicium_

_Ununtrium_

_Flerovium_

_Ununpentium_

_Livermorium_

_Ununseptium_

_Ununoctium_

_And then we're done!" _The routine was finished with a flourish, jazz hands and all. At first, no no one was really sure what to do. Then, Clint started clapping, and the rest of them joined in. Even Pepper-grudgingly.

"This is what caused me a mountain of paperwork?" she asked, laughing. "You and Bruce decided, out of the blue, that you'd build the Periodic Table of Elements in a day? Just what were you two trying to do?"

"Contrary to what you think, Pepper, Bruce and I haven't been planning this for a day," Tony answered her, suddenly serious. A hush fell over the Avengers, and they all grew somber-even Thor, who was still confused about just what was going on. "We've been planning this for a couple of weeks, actually. I've just shipped all of the elements in under your nose." He walked over to the middle of the table, fiddling with one of the stands. Everyone's curiosity was heightened as something as slipped into his pocket. Natasha even fingered her gun, still on a sense of caution from Tony's rogue act earlier.

"You'll notice that I didn't mention gold when we sang the song," he said quietly to the blonde, who could do nothing except for nod. "And I did that for a reason." With a twitch of his right hand, the window panels of the lab opened, revealing a gorgeous sunset. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tony took a deep breath while everyone else leaned forward in anticipation, some of them slowly going for their weapons.

"Oh, for Thor's sake! He's not going to kill you!" Bruce suddenly exclaimed, breaking the tension. Clint, Steve and Natasha sighed, nodded once, and sunk back into their chairs, slightly reassured but still wary.

"Pepper, when I first hired you to be my personal assistant, I had no idea that you'd turn out to be what you are today. Hell, I didn't expect that you'd mean so much to me as you do now." Tony sighed. "What I'm trying to say is, we've been through a lot, Pep. And I'm seventy-five percent sure that I wouldn't have been alive today had it not been for you in half of the situations I've been. And you know what? It's made me realize something.

"You've been the only person to tell me I have a heart," he began. "No one's ever told me that, and you still did, even after I was a cold, narcissistic ass." There were a few chuckles at that. "I didn't want to tell you I was dying because I didn't want to worry you. When you got hit with the Extremis, Pep, I didn't even know what to think." Tony turned to face Pepper then, looking solemnly into her eyes. "A-and I realized that I can't think, can't live, just can't _be_-none of that's going to happen without you. I _need _someone in my life to keep me constant, and I don't just need any person. I need _you_." Slowly, he sank down to one knee, withdrew a black box from his pocket, and opened it. "Virginia Potts, would you marry me?"

The entire room went silent, hardly daring to breathe as they waited for her reaction. Pepper had covered her mouth in shock, tears springing to her eyes. On the floor, Tony was still holding the box open, an expression between hope and desperation written on his face. The tension in the air was so thick Natasha could have cut it with one of her hidden knives.

Finally, she gasped. "You did this-for _me_. You and Bruce build a Periodic Table of Elements so you could purposely forget to mention gold, wait until sunset, and propose. All for _me_."

"I have to admit, all of today's complications weren't part of the of plan," Tony shrugged. "The bananas, the arsenic paperwork, going rogue...no. Those were _definitely _not part of the plan. But Brucie and I have wanted to do something like this for a while." The puppy-like expression on his face returned. "So will you do it, Pep?" he asked, hope in his voice. "Save an old man from going into an early grave?"

With that, Pepper laughed. "Of course I'll marry you, Tony. Someone's got to save you when you pull too-many all nighters. Might as well be me and not Nat."

"For the record, I would _never _marry you, Stark," Natasha chimed in as everyone started to laugh. "That's just a level I wouldn't even _want _to approach."

"Let's hear it for the new married-to-bes!" Clint exclaimed, bringing out a bottle of champagne and several glasses. "I propose a toast!"

"Yes, let's do that," Tony agreed, sliding the ring onto Pepper's left hand. It was made of the gold he'd been rushing about with earlier, studded with red diamonds. ("There's only twenty or thirty of them in the world!" he'd announced earlier.) "Meanwhile, I'm still going to figure out how the hell I managed to pull this off."

"You didn't tell me?" the outraged voice of Nick Fury echoed at the entrance to the lab. "Stark got engaged and you motherfuckers didn't invite me?"

All of the Avengers looked at each other in mild horror, Clint overflowing the glass he was filling. "Ah, shit. We forgot to invite Fury."

* * *

**Wow. This one's long. Things happen when I plan stuff out..and take three out of five days off, apparently. Read and review? Please? Especially because it's extra long! Winner gets Natasha's cookies! (Because you _know _those are good.)**


	26. Clint, Nat and Their Day Jobs

**Okay, so it's Monday...I'm sorry. :( There's at least five feet of snow on my front lawn, and it's definitely worse in my backyard...**

**It's been a slow week, and this late update probably isn't helping. But shoutout to Silverdash and gby98 for following!**

**Best review goes to aliceindeepdarkwonderland! Have Natasha's cookies!**

* * *

"Mommy? What do you do?"

The question was oh-so-innocently posed at the redheaded assassin during one morning at breakfast. Natasha paused at the kitchen counter, in the middle of fixing a bowl of Froot Loops for her daughter Callie. "What gave you that question, Callie?" she asked, setting the bowl of cereal on the kitchen island for the blonde seven-year-old. Callie turned to her mother, her short legs swinging in her chair as Natasha sat down beside her.

"Well, Uncle Tony's always talking about how he fixes stuff and Aunt Pepper always grumbles about how she has to pick up after Uncle Tony," she began hesitantly. "And then I thought, 'You and Daddy never say anything about what you do.'" Innocent blue eyes peered inquisitively into green ones. "Even Uncle Steve talks about what he does. Why don't you?"

Truth be told, Natasha had not been expecting this question for quite a while. Not for at least another three years, when she and Clint had negotiated with Fury that they'd be able to go back into field work. Callie was too young to know the specifics of her job-too unknowing, too childlike. Everything she hadn't had in her own childhood, instilled into the lives of their childrens'.

"What I do...it's kind of a secret," Natasha began, and Callie immediately shifted into a position that indicated she'd be ready to sit for a while, breakfast forgotten on the table. "I save a lot of people like your Uncle Steve. But the way that I do it isn't always right, and there's a lot of ways to get to the same answer. It's like when you do your math," she explained to the confused eight-year-old. "There's always more than one way to find _x_, right?"

"Uncle Tony says there's only one way to get to _x,_ even though Uncle Bruce says he's wrong," Callie answered, even now more thoroughly confused.

"That's because your Uncle Tony is usually wrong when it comes to things like this," Natasha chuckled, glad that she could make that small patch of ground. "Whenever you have to come to listening to one of your uncles or Aunt Pepper versus Uncle Tony, _never _listen to your Uncle Tony."

"I've got the other one," Clint announced, entering the kitchen their son slung over his shoulder, clearly attempting to go back to sleep. "I see you're up early, Callie. I knew you would take after your mother."

"And clearly, Nicky takes after you," Natasha snorted back at him in return. "If he had his way, he wouldn't be up for another four hours." As Clint deposited his son onto the floor, leaving him to pick himself up and serve himself cereal, Callie instantly beginning to chatter endlessly to him, she leaned over to Clint, confiding to him, "Callie just asked me what we do." At that, Clint's face contorted into worry, blue eyes darting over to his daughter, the spitting image of him-except for Natasha's chin-length, sleek hairstyle. That had been all hers.

"What'd you tell her?"

"I told her that it was a secret," she answered carefully, one eye on the twins and one eye on her husband. "I told her that we saved people like Steve did, but that we didn't always do it right. Like doing math." Clint's face scrunched up in such a perfect imitation of Callie's that Natasha couldn't help but chuckle. "That's exactly what she did."

"That's because math is an awful metaphor for what we do," he defended, taking a seat beside her. "Too many variables."

"But isn't that exactly what our life is?" she asked, voice still quiet as both children devoured their cereal. "Variables, numbers and letters all rearranged to fit the equation? The only difference is that messing up a variable means that the equation won't be as balanced as we want it to be."

"I think it's time," Clint said solemnly, and at once, Natasha knew what he meant. It was, and had been, their contingency plan since the twins could talk. She hadn't been overly enthusiastic about it when Clint had made it up (because whoever had made those things _really _had no experience whatsoever), but had to admit that it was the best plan they had. "Plan SK123?"

"Plan SK123."

"What's plan SK123?" Leave it to Callie and Nicky to pick up only the important piece of information in the entire conversation, Natasha mused, grinning. It was like how she and Clint had been trained to tune out entire monologues and only pick up the names they needed. Helped plenty in debriefings.

"Finish up your cereal and you'll find out," Clint answered, amused. "And I believe it'll answer your question, Callie." After some hurried whispering to her twin brother, both Callie and Nicky were shoveling down their cereal at superhuman speeds, eager to find out what their parents did for a living.

"I swear Steve's been giving them lessons on how to eat."

"I wouldn't rule it out. Especially with Darcy. She's such an influence on him."

* * *

"You are _way _too overexcited about this," Natasha said to Clint, rolling her green eyes at him as he sat attentively on the couch with Nicky and Callie, all three of them radiating excitement. "I swear you're more excited about this than Nicky and Callie." She made her way over to the DVD player, which Tony had coined as 'the mother of all DVD players', and slotted the first DVD in. "JARVIS, could you make us some popcorn?"

"Of course, Miss Romanoff," She'd changed her name when marrying Clint, but JARVIS had kept it. For nostalgia's sake. "Shall I have the usual butter and cheese added for four servings?"

"FOR FOUR EXTRA BIG BOWLS!" was the chorusing reply of Clint, Callie and Nicky. It wasn't often that Clint and Natasha ate popcorn, much less gave it to their kids (kernel shells were hell to pick out), so this was quite the treat. She sighed.

"You heard 'em, Jarv. Four extra big bowls."

* * *

"Spy Kids?" Nicky echoed in curiosity as the title slammed up onto the screen. He turned to Clint excitedly. "You and Momma are spies?"

"Yes, Nicky, we're spies," Clint answered his son fondly, ruffling his red hair. Callie had gotten his, and it had only seemed right Nicky inherit Natasha's. "We're spies. Just like the ones you're going to see in the movie."

"Daddy, what's the paper for?" Catalina asked, having snuggled up into his side at the start of the movie. "Are you taking notes on how to be a cooler spy?"

"Nah. You'll see," Clint answered, putting his free arm around his daughter. "You'll see soon." The movie opened to a shot of an island, quickly zooming in over a voiceover. Finally, it stopped on the image of a brown-haired girl, no more than nine or ten, just a few years older than the twins. Instantly, Callie's blue eyes widened in awe. The image changed to a redheaded boy in the bathroom, attempting to put medicine on his hand. _"Stupid warts." _her face quickly changed to one of disgust.

"He kind of looks like Nicky," she said matter-of-factly, causing a small 'Hey!' from her brother. "You do!" she said to him. "Your hair's red! And your eyes are green!"

Nicky was about to retort when Natasha entered the room, miraculously balancing four large blue popcorn bowls in her arms, each of them filled to the brim with buttery, cheesy popcorn. The three of them cheered at the sight of it, Clint leaping off of the couch to help his wife, taking two bowls out of her arms and offering them to the kids. Callie and Nicky immediately started munching away, still paying attention to the finer points of the movie.

* * *

"_I'm not actually your uncle." _This was accompanied by a rip of the mustache, causing both Callie and Nicky to gasp in shock. Clint and Natasha winced, both of them knowing the pain of having to rip off a fake mustache.

"Remember that time in Calcutta...?" she smirked to her husband mockingly, while he just scowled. Clint had had to don a wiry mustache and beard, and, due to his influency in Bengali, had ended up buy superglue instead of costume glue. Natasha had ripped it off mercilessly when he'd returned-the shrieks following that had haunted SHIELD agents for weeks.

"Is someone ever going to try and take us like that?" Nicky asked innocently. The two of them exchanged a look. While Tony's security was tested each and every month for holes by Clint and Natasha themselves (because really, who else did they trust to do it?), there was always the unspoken possibility of someone being just as good as the two of them combined, with no one in the building and SHIELD being more incapacitated than it already was...

"No." Finally, it was Clint who spoke, and when he did, it was with the utmost surety. "No one is _ever _going to take you two like that." Natasha fixed him with a long look that asked, 'Are you sure?'

'_If my kids are going to be taken, we're not going to be absentees,' _was his returning look. _'It'll be over my dead body.'_

Her response was just as affirming when she covered his hand in hers. _And you know we don't go down easily._

* * *

"Does the Third Brain actually exist?" Callie inquired. She'd always been the more inquisitive of the two. "Does Uncle Bruce have it? Is that why he's always in the lab?"

"One, the Third Brain doesn't exist, " Natasha told her, sending her a bemused glance. "That's only in the movie, honey. And two, do you remember what Daddy and I told you about your Uncle Bruce?"

"That sometimes he can't help it when he's angry, and if he gets angry, to grab Nicky and run," Callie recited word for word, not taking her blue eyes off of the screen. "But the Third Brain could help him with that!" She paused. "Momma, where's Carmen and Juni's parents?"

"They'll come back for them," Natasha reassured her. "They'll come back."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what parents do."

"Cool!" Nicky could be heard exclaiming from Natasha's other side. He looked over at his father, who was just as awestruck. "Do you and Momma have money that you can turn into food, too?"

"I _wish _we did," Clint's voice was wistful. "It would've saved your mother and I so much time trying to get food. Once, we were working, and I didn't know how to order food, so we had to go three days before we could eat." He didn't mention that Natasha had been unconscious for those three days, or that they'd been in constant fear of being hunted. There were just some things that could be left out.

* * *

"Clint, are you writing down a list of gadgets?" Natasha demanded of her husband, who, upon seeing Carmen and Juni put on jetpacks, began scribbling maniacally in his notepad. He didn't answer, just simply kept writing.

"Do you think Uncle Tony could build us jetpacks like that?" Nicky demanded, sitting up straight, captivated by the packs. "He already told me he wouldn't build a suit, but what do you think about a jetpack?"

Clint decided not to mention Natasha had all but threatened Tony with death should he build either Nicky or Callie a suit. "Trust me, I plan on asking your Uncle Tony for the exact same thing."

"I bet I could fly a jetpack," Callie said wistfully, gazing at Carmen, who was flying like a pro. "It'd be so much fun! Think about all of the loop-de-loops I could do, and all of the flips...maybe I could even race Uncle Tony!" She turned to Clint. "D'you think Uncle Tony would let me race him?"

"I bet I could fly the jetpack better then you could," Nicky remarked offhandedly, causing Callie to scowl and glare at her brother with such a Natasha-like glare he couldn't help but recoil.

"Just what makes you think you could?" she demanded petulantly, planting his hands on his hips. "Daddy says you probably drive like Momma! Which means you'll only fly like Momma, too!"

_"How do I drive, Clinton?" _ Natasha glared dangerously at Clint, who was shrinking into the couch with fear. _"Just how do I drive, Clinton?" _Both kids looked on in amusement as the staredown commenced between mother and father. Clint and Natasha's staredowns were legend around the Tower, but they'd never had the opportunity to witness one of them before now. It was almost enough for them to divide their attentions between the movie and their parents. _Almost._

"Weeeeelllll..." Needing to stall, Clint dragged the words out, trying to think of a suitable answer that wouldn't land him on the couch that night. But this was Natasha. Almost anything he said would land him on the couch. He was in that deep. "You manage to find the fastest route between two points?" he asked weakly, and shrieked as Natasha emptied his bowl of popcorn over his head. "Hey!"

* * *

"Do you think that if Uncle Thor put his hammer onto the thundershock gumballs, they'd work better?" Callie asked. "Every time we lose power, he puts it back in with his hammer, so he _has _to be able to give electricity, right?" She looked over at Natasha, who was still frowning at the fact that Carmen and Juni had been allowed to fly a helicopter on their own. "Momma?"

"You should ask him," Clint encouraged, despite the glare from Natasha. "I'm sure Uncle Thor would be all to happy to help. Better yet, ask your Uncle Tony to help make a gumball that holds electricity and _then _ask Uncle Thor to touch his hammer to it." He seized the legal pad and pen that lay to his right, scribbling down details. "I'm asking him that as soon as we're done watching these movies."

"Well, if he does, I hope they're done better than the ones Carmen and Juni have," Nicky declared, wrinkling his nose as a gumball fizzled out. "They're no fun if they don't work."

"He's _Uncle Tony_," Callie told him. "If he makes it, it's going to work."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Natasha told her daughter. "He has enough encouragement already from your Uncle Bruce on a regular basis. You two are going to make him insufferable."

"There's another one?" Nicky and Callie echoed as JARVIS automatically switched over the second movie, the opening credits beginning to roll once more. "There's another one!" Instantly, they began to fish into their parents' popcorn bowls, having run out of their own during the first movie.

"Hey, JARVIS?" Nicky shyly asked, still not used to interacting directly with the AI. Clint and Natasha had tried their hardest to shelter both of their children from the technology-fest that was Tony Stark, taking great pains to keep them from even JARVIS until they were six. "D'you think we could have some more popcorn?"

"Certainly, Mr. Barton," JARVIS replied, and they could soon hear the sounds of popping popcorn in the kitchen off of the viewing room, the occasional pop comforting to their ears.

"_Bring in SK1 and SK2." _

"Carmen and Juni!" Callie exclaimed brightly as the two young heros showed up on screen, ready for action. Nicky looked just as enthralled. If he'd had to hazard a guess, Clint would've supposed that his son identified quite a bit with the younger Cortez. And it wasn't just the hair.

"Agent Romanoff, the popcorn is ready," JARVIS discreetly announced, and with a small groan, Natasha got off the couch, picking up the bowls to refill. Eager to please, Callie leapt off of the couch to help her mother, taking a bowl and dashing into the kitchen. "Miss Barton, I wouldn't advise scooping the popcorn just yet. I have not added the butter and cheese."

"Oh. Sorry, Jarvie." Natasha could hear Clint snickering from the other room, and suppressed her own smile. If anyone else in the Tower figured out that Callie called the AI 'Jarvie' and got away with it, they'd all take to doing it. And to find out that his engineering marvel had been reduced to nicknames would have humiliated Tony.

* * *

"I can't believe Gary and Gerti stole Carmen and Juni's thunder," Clint complained as the other two Spy Kids made an appearance. "Carmen and Juni were doing just fine on their own before Giggles and Giggles came along. Speaking of which," he said to Natasha, rolling his eyes. "Who names their kids with the last name Giggles? Plus, with the alliteration? GG and GG? I swear, they haven't seen elementary school kids."

"_We _did that," Natasha reminded him solemnly.

"Yes, but our last name isn't Giggles." _Fair point_, she acknowledged, and scooped out more popcorn, popping it into her mouth. As usual, JARVIS had put the right balance of butter and cheese.

"I don't like them," Callie stated defiantly. "There's something weird about Gary that seems fishy. Like Auntie May trying to cook whenever she comes to visit." Clint snorted through a mouthful of popcorn, and Natasha tried not to choke on her own. "There's something icky about him, Carmen," she addressed the screen. "Don't fall for him!"

_Of course Callie wouldn't trust men, _Natasha mused to herself. _I didn't trust a man until I met Clint. Here's hoping she doesn't become as withdrawn as I was. _

"And what about you, Nicky?" Clint asked, turning to his son. "Any thoughts on Gerti?" The eight-year-old's expression pretty much spoke for itself, however, as the poor kid was drooling only in the way little kids could, a smudge of cheese on his lower lip. "Nicky? Niickyy..."

"Nicky likes Gerti!" Callie exclaimed in triumph, having picked up on her twin brother's facial expression. "Nicky has a crush on Gerti Giggles! _Nicky and Gerti, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage..._" And just like that, she was off singing, much to Nicky's displeasure.

"Wha-what-I-_I do not!_" he finally sputtered, causing Callie to fall silent. "She's got cooties! I wouldn't go anywhere _near _her!"

"You were drooling," she pointed out matter-of-factly. "When you like someone, you drool when your see their face."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I know everything!" A silent reference flew over their heads as Clint and Natasha looked at each other, the kids still squabbling. _'I only act like I know everything'. _

"You do not!"

"Do too! I'm older!" Natasha sighed. Callie was actually younger than Nicky by three minutes, but she chose not to push it. She'd learned early on that her daughter had inherited her stubbornness. "And I know that you like Gerti." With a cross of her arms, the argument between Callie and Nicky was over.

"Question," Clint suggested casually to the twins. "Not really important, but it kind of speaks for itself if you don't answer it."

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Who taught you two about cooties?"

"Auntie Skye."

"She's so in for it the next time Coulson comes to visit." Natasha muttered. "You want to do the honors, or should I?"

* * *

"I can't believe Juni got framed!" Nicky, visibly upset, was pouting at the screen as Juni was given the mother of all looks. "Obviously, it was Donnagon that did it! He just framed Juni so that he wouldn't look bad!"

"It's not right!" Callie agreed vehemently, coming to a consensus with her brother for once. "And why didn't anyone back him up?" She looked over to Natasha then, the desire for an answer burning in her bright blue eyes. "You don't do that, do you, Momma? I know you said you don't always do things the right way, but that's not what you meant, right? You wouldn't blame someone else for something you did...right?" Beside him, Clint felt Natasha tense up, and he put an arm around her shoulder, attempting to reassure her.

"Do I hear the sounds of my favorite niece and nephew?" Bruce's voice echoed in the hallway. Knowing this was an intervention, JARVIS paused the movie as Callie and Nicky jumped up, shouting,

"Uncle Bruce!"

"Hey, you two," Bruce greeted as Callie and Nicky immediately latched onto his legs, holding the cups in his hands higher so as not to spill them. "What are we watching?" Glancing towards the screen, he asked, "Spy Kids 2?"

"Momma and Daddy are showing us what they do for a living!" Nicky exclaimed, looking at him through excited green eyes. "They're spies, just like Carmen and Juni!"

"Ah, but could their super spy skills tell that I brought slushies?" Both kids squealed. Slushies, popcorn, and a movie marathon with their parents? This really was the perfect day. Chuckling, Bruce handed them the slushies-lemon for Callie and blue raspberry for Nicky-and took notice of the resident assassins curled up on the couch. Making sure the twins were occupied, he took a seat on the couch, careful not to encroach into their space. "What's up, you two?"

Natasha had curled into Clint's side while he'd held her. "Juni got framed," he explained, jerking a head towards the screen. "And Callie asked Nat if she did things like that." Bruce's face creased into a frown, understanding why such a question had hit home for the redheaded assassin.

"Well, to be honest, Natasha, you do," he answered. Her head snapped up to glare at him, her green eyes demanding an explanation that wouldn't require her to kill him at that very second. "All the time. Whenever you drink all the coffee and Tony asks who did it, you blame it on Steve. If Pepper wants to know who left out _Magic Mike_, you blame it on Bobbi. Or Thor. And if something explodes, you blame Clint." Clint looked miffed at the last one. "Come on, Barton, you know it's true."

"I guess it's true," Natasha let out a dry chuckle. "I _do _frame people all the time."

"So there's your answer," Bruce said to her. "You frame people. Just not in the way that you used to. And that's what you tell her."

"I'll tell her after she gets down from that sugar high," Clint snorted as Callie and Nicky bounded back onto the couch, settling in once more. "She'll be bouncing around for the next decade if we keep giving her popcorn and slushies." JARVIS had started up the movie again, both kids growing sober at the memory of Juni's incident. Silently, Bruce left the room, tiptoeing out so not to disturb the family of four.

* * *

"I'm asking Uncle Tony for one of those right after this," Callie declared as Machete held up the invention in triumph. "Machete's elastic wonder! Has 2000 uses, but only you can figure them all out." A dreamy look crossed her face. "Hair elastic, slingshot, holding together a bunch of flowers..."

"Three down, 1,997 to go," Clint muttered, writing the invention down. "I daresay that one's going to take Tony forever. He and Callie will have a field day trying to figure out 2,000 uses for the thing."

"Don't deny you want one, Barton," Natasha retorted back. The archer ducked his hair in embarrassment. "You know you want one so you can hold your arrows together and make arrow bouquets when you know you've screwed up."

"Machete's elastic wonder!" Callie exclaimed for a second time, but this time more reverently. "Machete's elastic wonder..."

"D'you think you can stop saying that, Callie?" Nicky asked. "I'm trying to watch the movie."

"Machete's elastic wonder..."

* * *

"_You, Juni, have one in your second molar on your right. And you, Carmen, have one on your left incisor." _

"Do _we _have trackers in our teeth?" Nicky wondered casually, his tongue wandering the grooves of his teeth, looking for some sort of evidence. "Did you and Momma put any in when me and Callie were babies?"

"No, no you don't," Natasha answered. "That's pretty much the one thing we didn't let your Uncle Tony do when you two were born. Give us a list of names, yes, get your ears pierced, Callie, have Uncle Bruce check you over...but not trackers. Heck no." She neglected to mention that Tony had instead injected a tracker into them both, insisting that it was better than a tracker anywhere else.

"Can we get trackers?"

"No." The answer was synonymous from both Natasha and Clint. "You are _not _getting a tracker in your teeth."

* * *

"We should ask Uncle Tony for a mini zoo!" Callie exclaimed as Romero piled a set of animals into a box. "I'm sure he has a shrink ray around! And plus, the shrink ray actually exists! Gru made one!" Once again, Clint facepalmed himself for letting Hunter watch Callie and Nicky that one time. Of _course _they would've watched _Despicable Me._

"What would we put in it?" Nicky asked, excitedly turning to his sister. "An elephant? Alligators?"

"Let's put a lion in it!"

"No, I think we should have an elephant!"

"Lion!"

"Elephant!"

"Lion!"

"Wait, what about a camel?" Clint asked. "Your mother hates camels," he explained when the twins looked at him. "Ever since that one time we were working and one spit in her hair."

"Ew, gross!" they both exclaimed, and the debate of an elephant versus a lion resumed.

"Catalina Scarlett Barton, should you get a camel in your zoo, I swear, you and Nikolai will be living with Auntie May for a week when she's in health cleanse mode."

* * *

"Why doesn't the waterpark have any water, Momma?" Despite the on-screen girl having asked the question ten seconds before, Callie still felt the need to ask. She munched on her dregs of popcorn, JARVIS in the midst of making another batch. Natasha rolled her eyes. Of all of the questionable things about this movie, they questioned why the water park wasn't open? That was _so _Clint.

"Shh. Juni's about to tell us," Clint answered patiently for his wife, sensing that she was holding back from making a sarcastic remark she'd regret later.

"_It's simple, really." _Juni's voice echoed. _"The waterpark's just not open in the winter." _

"But the waterpark WE go to doesn't close in the winter!" Nicky exclaimed.

"That's because it's on the 38th floor, honey," Natasha told him, ruffling his hair. "Your Uncle Tony built it indoors so that you two could go to a waterpark in the summer or the winter." She mentally made a note for the kids to write thank-you notes to Tony later. After all, it was about time they realized just how much Stark had spoiled them.

* * *

"Alright, that's it," Clint declared, picking up the legal pad once again. Several pages had been flipped over this time, scribbles and notes littering the margins. "I'm asking Stark for an immersive video game after this."

"Do we get parts in it?" Nicky asked. "Do we get to be the good guys? How about Momma? Does she get a part?"

"Your mother will get a part, alright," Clint chuckled. "I'm not sure what part your Uncle Tony would give her, but your mother would have a part in it nonetheless."

"Juni's suit looks a lot like Uncle Tony's! And Arnold's! All of them look like Uncle Tony's, actually!" Callie pointed out. "But I don't think it does as much." Her nose scrunched adorably as her frowned. "Plus, Uncle Tony would _never _wear pink." Clint and Natasha exchanged looks.

"Ten bucks says I can get Stark to wear pink by the next week. Especially if I drop the kids' names."

"You're on."

* * *

"Momma? If you and Daddy went into this race, who do you think would win?" Nicky asked, bowled over by the technology of the racing cars. "I'm not saying that you guys would get into a race like this, but..."

Natasha considered it. She and Clint had gotten into a lot of races over the years, many of them on unconventional vehicles. No one wanted to mention the time she'd beat him on a sled with wheels. "I'm not sure there'd be a winner," she admitted to her son. "Your father and I are both very competitive when it comes to racing things."

"But what about if Uncle Steve and Uncle Thor and Uncle Tony and Uncle Bruce were in it, too? What if they were all in the race cars like Juni was?"

"First of all," Clint interrupted. "Your Uncle Tony would cheat." There was a very loud echo of 'NO I WOULDN'T!' echoing from the lab below. He smirked. If it came down to a matter of their prides, Tony would have done everything he could to win. "Secondly, I don't think your Uncle Bruce would do these sort of things. He tends to sit out on the more exciting things."

"And he's perfectly right," Bruce arrived for the second time with more slushies, handing them off to the kids before handing Natasha her own watermelon slushie. She sipped it gratefully, excited for the sugar rush. "I'd be standing by to make sure your mom and dad didn't try anything dangerous. Like racing in this, for example." He gestured towards the screen.

"We wouldn't do that," Clint snorted quietly, under the sounds of the kids slurping their slushies. "Natasha and I take _far _less risks nowadays."

"Clint, last week you climbed three stories in order to avoid that one guy on the street wearing the sandwich suit." Bruce protested. "What was that about not taking risks again?" Natasha glared at him, as if to say, 'Clint...'

"I have a phobia of people in sandwich suits! It's called Anthropopseudodoraphobia!" he protested. When both Bruce and Natasha gave him dubious looks, his voice rose up another octave or so. "It's true! You can look it up!"

"Anyways," Natasha said loudly, turning the conversation back to Callie and Nicky, "if it was between your Uncles Steve and Thor and Daddy and I...I'd probably say Uncle Steve or Thor. Depending on who's running faster that day." She stuttered a bit when a giant crater appeared on the screen, and reevaluated her answer. "Um...I change that remark. Probably none of us, then. Maybe your Uncle Steve, if he was pretty lucky."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Clint scoffed. "I have grappling arrows, you know."

* * *

"I don't like Demetra," Callie declared for the second time that day. "But I do like her suit. Do you guys think I could convince Uncle Tony to make me a purple suit?"

"No!" she exclaimed five minutes later as the character fell off of the platform. "Why'd she have to die?"

"CARMENNN!" When Carmen showed up in all of her glory, it took all of Callie's strength not to fall onto the floor in a fangirly fit. Natasha and Clint gave each other a wry grin. It was most likely that the elder female spy was now their daughter's hero, and that there would probably be many spy attempts in the next few weeks. Tony had better watch out.

* * *

"HE'S NOT THE GUY! JUNI'S THE GUY!" This was shouted by all four members of the family as they watched the scene unfold. If asked about it later, Natasha would have heartily denied shouting along with her family, but Clint would have vehemently insisted that his wife had taken part in it just as much as he had.

* * *

"Can we ask Uncle Tony to let us go lava surfing?! PLEASE?" Nicky pleaded as the team launched themselves into the lava surf. "I bet he would make a lava level for us! And he'd let us surf on it!"

"Yeah, Nat, can we ask Tony to let us go? PLEAAAASE?" Clint added. "I promise I'll look after Nicky if we get one! Plus, Tony would be there! PLEEEAAASE?" The look on his face was akin to a puppy's. Normally, Natasha would have given in to her husband's puppy eyes, but this time was not one of them. She and Callie exchanged looks before answering in sync,

"NO."

"But Nat!" "But Momma!"

* * *

"Do you guys have to wear glasses every time you fight the bad guys?" Callie asked as Carmen and Juni touched down in the street, throwing glasses to every member of the family that showed up. "Do you need them to see the bad guys?"

"No, but your father does it all the time to try and look cool." Natasha leaned in conspiratorially to the kids. "He's not. but don't tell him that. It'll crush him and he won't eat for a week." They just giggled at that, imagining Clint with a pair of oversized glasses.

* * *

**Three Days Later**

With a yelp, Tony rounded the corner of the communal living room, Steve and Thor hot on their heels. Callie and Nicky followed them soon after, canisters in their hands and gumballs in their mouths. Upon seeing Clint and Natasha, all five of them skidded to a stop, the twins hiding the canisters behind their backs guiltily.

"Natshalie, Legolas," Tony panted, hands on his knees. Neither Steve or Thor looked winded, but it was probably because of their enhanced metabolisms."Your kids are NEVER watching spy movies again! And neither are you two!"

"We had to show them what we did, Stark," Natasha's voice was the epitome of calm, her arms crossed over her chest. "It was the best way to break it to them." She raised an eyebrow at her kids, who had arranged innocent looks on their faces. Curse them for inheriting two of the best poker faces in SHIELD.

"Look! Uncle Tony made cement spray!" Callie exclaimed, backing Tony to the wall and spraying him with a canister. Instantly, he was stuck to the wall, webs of cement holding him against its surface. With a couple of chews and a spit, Tony was also electrocuted, courtesy of the electroshock gumball Nicky had spit at him. "And they work!"

Callie popped another gumball in her mouth, and both Steve and Thor took that as cues to start running, pure terror written on their faces. The twins popped another gumball in their mouth each before going after the two Avengers shrieking war cries.

"This excuses VERY little," Tony hissed, writhing in the cement, trying to get out.

"You know what, Stark, you made them the gadgets." Clint's voice was bemused. "You kind of brought it on yourself."

"_To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing, the need to express, to communicate, to going against the grain, going insane, going maaaaad..."_

Natasha had definitely watched too many family-friendly movies that day. She needed some sort of reality. Kept her grounded as a spy. What better way to do that than RENT? Nothing better than love in the middle of having AIDS. And being poor. Poor, AIDS, and forbidden love. Didn't get any better than this. Especially La Vie Boheme. It was one of her favorite songs.

"_So that's five miso soup four seaweed salad three soy burgers two tofu dinner and one pasta with meatless balls-"_

"_Ew."_

"_It tastes the same."_

"_If you close your eyes!"_

"_And thirteen orders of fries, is that it here?"_

"_WINE AND BEER!"_

"Natasha, Callie's sprayed Nicky to the wall with cement spray and Tony can't get him off with a jackhammer..." Steve entered the room, and upon seeing the image on the screen, he blushed the color of the spy's hair. She made a grab for her phone, unlocking it and snapping a photo of the super-soldier, sending it to Clint in a flash:

_Barton, bring your phone because Steve just walked in on me watching RENT and his face is redder than Thor's cape. _

"Steve?" she asked him. He was still standing there, mouth agape, as she waved a hand in his face. "Steve?"

A text pinged in from Clint. _I'm so there._

* * *

**Okay, so THIS weekend starts my series of Romanogers. But hopefully that doesn't stop anyone from reading and reviewing? Last week was kind of slow...please, guys? Please? Winner gets a can of cement spray and some electroshock gumballs!**

**Credit to clintasha_texts for that last part! Check them out on instagram if you have time :)**

**Love you all! :)**


	27. Someone Worth Fighting For

**WELCOME TO THE FIRST INSTALLMENT OF ROMANOGERS APPRECIATION MONTH! I've spent the last week at home because of all of the snow I've had, and it's February break, so that means ANOTHER week off...and possibly more updates! And also me watching Chris and Scarlett movies! (Am mildly obsessed with The Nanny Diaries at the moment. _Slightly._) **

**Shoutout to Reclaimer20, Shiro-han, WelshJuliet, Boooyakasha (bonus points because we're writing a script in PM xD), and Hofherrp for following!**

**Winner of them gumballs goes to LeDbrite! Please try not to spit on anyone...although Tony is encouraged. **

* * *

"BUS HOOO!" came the shout of Clint as the Bus landed on the helipad of Stark Tower. Each Avenger literally dropped what they were doing and ran towards the roof: for Tony, it was his latest experiment (he'd pick up the resulting chemical explosion later), for Bruce, it was his book, Thor dropped his hammer (luckily it was on a thick floor), and for Steve, it was Natasha. They'd been sparring when the yell had happened, and it was with a stubbed knee she hobbled up to the roof, getting there right when the Bus touched down.

It was Bobbi they saw first, bounding off of the plane with the strides of a gazelle towards Natasha, skidding to a stop as she examined the spy holding her knee. "What'd you do this time, Romanoff?" Mutely, Natasha extended an accusing finger at Steve, pantomiming a drop. Bobbi glared at the super-soldier. "You dropped her? Seriously?"

"Blame your boyfriend," Steve grumbled. "He told us to drop everything when he yelled 'Bus ho'. I took him literally." The focus of Bobbi's gaze turned to Clint instead, who was across the room with a sullen look on his face. "I'd go to him. He doesn't look too happy that you're with us right now instead of him." With a roll of her eyes, she sauntered over to Clint, giving him a long kiss that had everyone in the room averting their eyes.

"Can you two lovebirds take it somewhere I won't need the mind bleach?" Tony asked dramatically, slapping a hand over his eyes. "I literally have to put up with these two," he gestured to Steve and Natasha, who just let out a synchronized sigh of exasperation-because really, how many times did they have to prove to Tony that they weren't together?-and pointedly stepped away from each other, Natasha going to hug Hunter, who'd stepped off of the plane after Bobbi, groaning loudly about 'all of the bloody luggage'.

"No, seriously, who's the idiot that decided they'd pack a ton of bricks in here?" he demanded, plunking the bags on the ground. "I'd like to have a word with them about their opinions of what a 'light' bag is. Specifically on what the hell they were thinking when Coulon said 'a _light _bag'! Because they sure as hell weren't paying attention!" One of the bags was roughly poked with his foot, only to be tackled as FitzSimmons ran off the plane in unison, shrieking about delicate lab equipment.

"Honestly, Hunter, Fitz and I told you last week that we'd be bringing in equipment to the tower!" Simmons exclaimed, scurrying to pick up the bag Hunter had just kicked. "And it's of a _very _delicate nature such that it can't be scuffed up in the slightest!"

"That sounds like a certain Jemma Simmons..." Jane singsonged as she came into the communal room, easily scooping up the bags that Hunter had dropped. She too gave him a dirty look as she shouldered one of them, consolingly patting Fitz, who was next to her, on the shoulder. "Jackbooted thugs and their use of lab equipment," she huffed, handing him a bag marching off with the other two. "Completely ignorant of lab procedures, oh yes, all for shooting things and drinking beers..."

"SKYE, GET OUT OF THE DAMN SYSTEM!" Coulson's shout could be heard from the plane as loud alarms began to blare inside of the tower, causing each of them to flinch in surprise. Natasha had already gone towards her gun when the hacker emerged, scowling but not meanly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, AC," she said, waving a hand at him. "Just testing Stark's system and all. I'd like to test the safety of the place we're staying at for the next three weeks," she said as Tony let out a high-pitched squeak. "Makes me sleep at night."

"We're trying," May said to Tony as way of greeting as she disembarked the plane. "We're really trying. So far this week, she's only managed to hack Hunter's phone and turn it to the Nyan cat."

"Which you _have _to admit was genius!" Skye cackled, sauntering into the Tower like she owned it. "He didn't go near his phone for a _week _after that."

"It was bloody unnecessary, was what it was," Hunter huffed, still miffed at being called a 'jackbooted thug' by Jane. "I'm a merc, for cryin' out loud. It should be playing AC/DC, not the puked up remains of some _cat._"

"That cat is a cat of the Tarts of Pop," Thor rumbled. "You would do well not to insult it." Everyone had to roll their eyes at that. Clearly, no one had told Thor that the Nyan Cat wasn't real.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Thor, that Nyan Cat isn't real?" Steve asked, massaging his temples. "It's just a computer program that someone made up. Even _I _understand it."

"Well, when everyone gets settled in," Bruce announced, rubbing his hands together, "IT'S MOVIE NIGHT!" All of the Avengers let out a cheer. "No, we are NOT watching Despicable Me again. You guys remember what happened last time." The cheers quickly turned to 'awww's. "Tony is NOT allowed to create another minion machine."

"But Steve as Dave was the _cutest _thing!" Clint exclaimed. He whipped out his phone and scrolled through the pictures, showing them to Bobbi. "And Natasha turned into a Phil, and Thor turned into a Stewart..."

Both of them just glared at him.

* * *

"We're watching _Mulan_?" Tony echoed, a beer already in his hand. "We're watching an old-school Disney movie that came out eleven years ago?" All of them had piled onto the respective couches of the Tower's viewing room. Most of them had sprawled out onto various beanbags representing their identities, save for May and Coulson, who were quietly huddled together on a couch, taking the precious moment to be together. Steve and Natasha were on the floor in front of them. Natasha squirmed in hers, the extra-large stars and stripes engulfing her tiny body. (So maybe she'd taken Steve's by mistake. Possibly on purpose, just to see him looking so adorably out of place in a too-small black and red beanbag.)

"We could watch _Frozen_," Skye answered innocently. "It's been a hectic couple of weeks. I think we need to 'let it go' for a bit. Maybe build a snowman?" What she didn't know was that the five of them had elected to watch _Frozen _just last week, Clint singing the songs through the vents for five days straight.

"I think I'll take Mulan," Tony said weakly. His ears were still ringing from when Clint had attempted to hit the high notes from 'Let It Go' two days ago. "There's no talking snowmen." Plus, he _really _hated talking snowmen.

"Ooookay," Clint announced twenty minutes into the movie, stretching out on his beanbag. "SHIELD as Mulan. Go." There were various murmurs of 'I'm not drunk enough for this' as beers were chugged, one by one.

* * *

"Okay, now I think I'm drunk enough for this," Tony slurred, putting down his third bottle of beer. "Avengers and SHIELD as Mulan. Go." No one noticed May discreetly facepalming her forehead, knowing what was coming next.

"May as Mulan!" Skye announced, chugging down a beer. When everyone looked at her, she shrugged inelegantly. "What? You guys honestly can't say that she doesn't sound like Mulan?" Their ears perked up for Mulan's next line, trying to determine if May really was the spitting voice of the character.

"_I never want to see a naked man again," _

"HEY IT'S MAY!" Hunter exclaimed drunkenly, so out of character both May and Coulson snorted into their drinks. "Didja know that you sound just like Mulan, Agent May? I mean-" He gesticulated wildly, much to the amusement of the Avengers and Bus team. "You two sound exactly the same!" Another beer was popped open, and Hunter drank it down with a contented sigh. "If I didn't know better, I would've sworn you went undercover and played Mulan."

"It's like that time we watched the Spongebob Squarepants movie," Clint added, also fairly drunk. "Mindy the Mermaid. Remember guys?" he asked to the various Avengers, who all nodded in unison. "Sounds just like Tasha."

"I thought she did!" Hunter exclaimed, turning accusingly to face Clint. "Isn't that what you said, mate? You're telling me _now _she didn't go undercover to play a mermaid? Bloody hell," he groaned, chugging his beer. "I've been lied to." There was a nod, and Natasha reached over, punching Hunter in the arm. "Ow, woman. You hit harder than May does when she's angry with Coulson."

"I, for one, would _never _play a mermaid," she retorted, clinking beer bottles with May in a toast. "I would hate having a tail. And being green. And having glasses. Basically everything about that girl, I would hate to be." She and the Asian agent drank down their beers in unison, a silent promise to never mention this awkward similarity again.

"Tony's Yao." Steve announced, getting into the game. There were nods among them. Had Pepper been there, he mused, there definitely would have been a vehement hiss of 'Yes'. Luckily, Pepper was working and hadn't had time to make the movie night.

"Clint's Ling." Phil called out, and several catcalls were directed to the archer, who burrowed his head into Bobbi's shoulder in humiliation. "Remember when we found him, May?" he asked, elbowing her. "Thought he was such a ladies' man. Skinny as a beanpole, too."

"I'd rather not bring up those days," came the muffled reply, much to Tony's amusement. "When you grow up in the circus, you don't exactly get taught how to get the girls." Bobbi just smirked amusedly, taking a sip of her drink.

"It's okay. You're still cute."

"_Ooh, ooh, sweet and pungent shrimp." _

"That's so Thor," Jane announced, cracking up. "If someone shouted 'Order', he's probably call for Pop Tarts and some Pad Thai. Plus, he's so big. Just not the fat sort of big." A worried look crossed her face. "What exactly does he eat on Asgard, anyways?"

"_You will assemble swiftly and silently every morning. Anyone who acts otherwise shall answer to me." _

"STEEEEEVVEEE" was belched by Clint and Tony drunkenly, with an added 'AMEN!' from Hunter as Skye and May looked on in disgust. Fitz was halfway to raising his beer and agreeing with them, but Simmons quickly lowered his arm. "SHAAAAANNNNGGG."

"Sorry, Captain Rogers, but she belongs to me," Coulson said to him, pulling May closer to him. Steve nodded along with him absentmindedly. Not that he'd ever say it out loud, but May was just a little too old for him, despite all of the old man jokes Tony and Clint constantly made.

"_Whoo! Sign me up for the next war!"_

"Sounds like someone I know," Simmons muttered, glancing slyly at Skye, who buried her face into a pillow. "Didn't you say that the first time you met Hunter?"

"I said _sign me up for the next merc wave_," Skye scowled back at the biochemist, while the rest of them snickered in the background. "Not for the next war." There was no denying the small blush on her face, though. Natasha took one look at Skye, then looked at Hunter, who had also pointedly looked away at the remark. She smirked. Something was _definitely _going on between those two. By the flash of fear in his eyes when he caught her gaze, she was probably on the track of being correct.

"Shouldn't May be the grandma, though?" Fitz joked. "May _is _her S.O., is she not?" May just glared at the drunken Scot, threateningly pointing her beer at him.

"You call me a grandma one more time, Agent Fitz, I'll see to it that you're on the target at the range the next time Agent Romanoff's in a shooting mood." For good measure, Natasha cracked her knuckles, causing the poor scientist to squeak and slop some of his beer down his front.

"_You can guess what we have missed the most, since we went off to war..."_

"_What do we want?"_

"_A girl worth fighting for!"_

"_Wish that I had..."_

None of them noticed that Steve was sitting despondently in the corner, nursing a bottle of beer and staring into its depths. Of course he believed in fighting for civilian women-having casualties was an absolute no-no. But was any girl _actually _worth fighting for? She was long gone, Steve decided. Swept away by time and dementia and God knew what else. He sighed heavily, tipping back the bottle. _Peggy would've been worth fighting for, _he lamented, then chuckled to himself. _I would've fought to the ends of the earth for that woman. _

He didn't notice the long stare Natasha gave him, the urge she fought to reach out for his hand, or the sigh she gave to herself, sipping at her own beer before returning her attention to the movie.

* * *

**Three Weeks Later**

"I'm just saying," Tony exclaimed, throwing the door to the suite open. "I've been buying booze since I was sixteen. Never in my life has someone thought I was under the drinking age!" He slapped the brown bag full of alcohol onto the provided table, the bottles clanking. "I'm over thirty, for God's sake!"

"I'm still laughing at the part where they tried to card Stark but fell over selling their wares to Captain America," Clint commented, the rest of the Avengers following Tony into the area where they'd be staying. "'Ze Romanee Conti is ze best, Capitaine, zis you must try!" He snorted. "I'm surprised they didn't try to sell him cheese with it."

"Are we on for shots tonight, fellas?" Natasha asked, setting out the glasses. "Think we're gonna need to be good and drunk if we're gonna be taking out a HYDRA base tomorrow." She peered into the bag, frowning at the selection. "Stark, you got, like, five different types of vodka, two types of gin, and four brandies." She fixed a glare onto him, frowning. "Where's the beer?"

Tony, who had picked up a shot glass, automatically spit out the wine he'd downed. "What d'you mean, _where's the beer?_" he demanded. "Every single time we're in the Tower, you demand vodka, and the one time we're not, you ask for beer?"

"My tastes change." She shrugged, reaching for a shot glass and pouring her own glass of wine. "I just happened to want beer. Plus, there's some decent beers in France. Can't do a mission here without 'em."

"Say, Romanoff, when was the last time you had a foreign alcohol that wasn't vodka?" Clint challenged. "I think you've become a foreign lightweight." He wiggled the shot glass teasingly, causing Natasha to raise an eyebrow at him. "You did go down after three shots of that sake I brought back last month from Japan." He already sounded fairly drunk, she mused, but she'd roll with it. She'd seen worse.

"That was _sake_, Barton. This is everything but beer. I think I can handle it. You're on."

* * *

"I miss my girl," Clint slurred fifteen shots later, throwing back his brandy. "She's paler than the moon, with eyes that shine like stars...oh, Bobbi, how you're the light of my life..." His eyes glazed over. "I've fallen like a fool for her, that Mockingbird..."

"Dude, you just saw her." Bruce, who hadn't touched a single drink, slapped the archer on the back. "It's only been three weeks. You've gone months without seeing her, remember?"

"But she's worth fighting for," Clint lamented, taking another shot. Bruce glared at Natasha, who was innocently refilling his shot glass. "I didn't realize that until we watched that movie with the May sound-alike, but she's worth fighting for." His face drooped. "I'd do anything she wanted me to."

"I miss Pepper," Tony confessed, lifting his own glass in support. "She marvels at my strength, adores my battle scars...thinks I have no faults...I need to say that I love her more, really, I don't think I say it enough..."

"If you wanted a woman that thinks you have no faults, you probably should start looking in the next realm," Natasha snorted to him. "And even then, I don't think you'd have much luck." She threw another shot back. "Plus, I bet Pepper's having the time of her life. Three weeks without having to pick up after you? She's probably throwing parties night after night."

"Pep loves me as is!"

"Lady Jane is quite the desired companion," Thor threw in, unaware to the fight he'd just prevented. The alcohol affected him as much as it did Steve, but he still wanted to join in the revelry where he could. "I could care less of her appearance, while it be quite fair. It concerns me much more of her culinary skills," he professed, chugging some vodka, wincing as he felt the burn. "Is she able to properly prepare boar? How about that of a venison? 'Tis requirements of an Asgardian bride, and those are the more simple tasks. Alas, I miss her so," he sighed, tossing back some more vodka. "She is a rare find, and I am blessed to have her."

"No one tell Jane she'll have to take Asgardian cooking classes," Clint snickered, elbowing Tony in the side. "Hopefully she hasn't heard about the meats and run for it. Although, if I were her, I probably would have." He turned to Steve, who was staring off into the distance, having hardly touched his drink. "Bet you were quite the charmer back in your day, eh, Rogers?"

"When you look like more of a stick and less like a soldier, you'd be surprised at how fast people run away," was Steve's sober reply as he stared out the window opposite him, the stars of France glowing in the distance. "Needless to say, I didn't have many dates. I need a girl that's got a brain...and always speaks her mind." There were really only two people in his life that did that, he mused. One of them was currently lying in their deathbed, and the other-well, he wouldn't touch the other.

Thor, Loki, Tony and Clint all looked at each other, faces contorting in disbelief at Steve's gentlemanly proclamation. "NAAAHHHHHH." Tony declared loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face as he took another drink. Steve just shrugged, relaxing back into the couch.

Across the room, Natasha's ears perked up at Steve's declaration, and she silently arched an eyebrow, more to herself than anyone else. There was the slightest possibility, that had he had someone in mind when saying that...no. She wouldn't let herself go there. _Couldn't _let herself go there. That was territory that ranked somewhere in between remembering her childhood and Fury's death. She frowned at her drink, downing it in one go, reaching for the bottle to fill it yet again.

"Ey, what about you, Natashalie?" Tony asked. "Anyone you'd fight for?" He was inebriated beyond belief at this point, reaching for the bottle several times but missing. Steve sighed and moved the bottle away. No point in giving Iron Man alcohol poisoning just before a mission.

"Of course there's someone, Stark," she answered quietly, determined to look anywhere but Steve. "What makes you think that there isn't?" The two of them stared each other down, drunk versus sober, brown versus green. "Just because love is for children doesn't mean that there aren't people worth fighting for."

Mistakenly, she looked up to see Steve's piercing blue eyes on her. She leveled her gaze right back, and this time a different sort of staring contest begun-a mental battle to break down the other's walls. Silently, she nodded and got up from the couch, taking small, calculated steps towards her room.

Once the door was shut, Natasha silently berated herself for taking the time to stare at the super-soldier. _He's obviously not over Peggy, _she scolded mentally. _You have absolutely no reason to think he'd ever want you. Just because you have a couple of things in common with the love of his life doesn't mean that he's going to suddenly change his mind. _"Get it together," she muttered to herself, flopping onto her bed. "It's Peggy he was thinking about, not you."

Little did she know that Steve stood just outside of her door, debating on whether to knock. She didn't know that he stood there for a good twenty minutes, staring at the door, his fist half raised.

And neither of them knew that Bruce had seen the whole thing.

* * *

Natasha woke to the sounds of a heated argument in the living room outside of her door. Based on the shouts, it sounded like Tony had made some sort of suggestion that everyone had been against, Steve's voice especially prominent. She smiled to herself. Of course he would protest. Tony tended to go into things headfirst, while Steve was true to his name. _The Star Spangled Man With a Plan. Not bad._

"Look, Cap, we don't have time to call in for backup," Tony argued, gesturing to the map on the table. "If we don't go in now, a hell of a lot of people are going to die. And why? Because you were too afraid to make a stand."

"I'm not willing to risk our lives for the sake of a half-assed plan, Tony," Steve hissed right back, his normally bright blue eyes a dark navy. "Even if we were going to make a stand, how would we do it? What would we have over them? Once we go in, there's no second wave to make up for the element of surprise. There's. No. Distraction." With that, Steve slammed his fist on the table. "If we can get backup, we have a distraction."

Inwardly, with her ear still pressed to the door, Natasha reviewed the plan. Calling for a distraction was definitely the right call-the Avengers themselves couldn't just storm the place. One of them would most likely be shot before any real damage was done. A small aside assured her (snidely) that it was probably going to be Clint. Ironically. From the sounds of it, the plan called for firepower. _Lots _of firepower. And honestly? She was anything but.

_She _could be the distraction. It would probably save so many more lives that way. There would be less of a chance of someone getting hurt. Whether she wanted to go into specifics or not, her mind wouldn't allow. Tiptoeing silently over to her closet, she suited up, tucking in various weapons and knives. Then, it was over to the window (thank God Tony had gone for the first floor), sliding it open, and out she was.

Natasha wasn't a fool. She knew _very _well she could die on this mission for nothing. But if doing so prevented anyone else (a mental voice in her head took that moment to cough out Steve's name) from dying, then so be it.

* * *

"_Sir, I believe there's something you should see." _JARVIS' voice cut through the thick of the argument between Steve and Tony. Instantly, each Avenger was on alert, staring at Tony's Starkphone. _"There seems to be an ongoing incident at the factory where the Avengers intended to strike."_

Tony cursed under his breath. "See, this is why we shouldn't have waited for backup," he hissed to Steve. "Someone else has already gotten there first. Who knows what their objectives are! JARVIS, pull up a feed," he commanded. A video feed was projected onto the blank wall in front of them, showing a burning building, smoke going up in columns. Faint shooting could be heard, as well as French-sounding yells.

"Well, whoever's in there is doing a pretty good job of busting shit up," Clint commented. Bruce agreed with a nod of his head. "Maybe they're on the side of the good guys."

"_Reports show no sign of any other intelligence agency stationed in the area." _That much was obvious-they'd all been assured that SHIELD would be the only agency to touch down in France that week.

"Well, we've still got to get in there and get to the info we _can _get," Tony announced. For once, Steve just kept his mouth shut, nodding in agreement. "Everyone, suit up. We roll out in five."

"Where is Lady Romanoff?" Thor asked, speaking for the first time that morning. "She has not risen from bed, no?"

"I'll get her," Clint answered, hopping off of the table which he'd been sitting on. "God knows she'd shoot any of you if you pounded on her door." He rapped on the bedroom door, a short, staccato knock. "Nat, get up. We gotta leave in five."

No response. Clint tried again. "Nat, come on. I'm serious."

Still nothing. Frowning, he tried the doorknob, sighing when he found it locked. With a grunt, he kicked the doorknob, doing it in and opening the door. "Nat, this really isn't funny, we have to..." His voice trailed off into silence, and the rest of the Avengers crowded behind him to find out what was going on. "Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit." Shoving past the men, he hurried back to the Starkphone, which was still playing the feed. "JARVIS, how many people are causing that shitstorm in the factory?"

"_It appears to be just one, sir."_ Clint swore loudly, wheeling around to face Tony and Steve, who had equal looks of confusion on their faces. _"They seem to be taking out one room at a time-the heat signature is reminiscent of a small woman."_

"You two realize what this means, right?" he asked both of them, his voice beginning to shake. _"Tell me you two realize what this means."_

"It means we're fucking dead," Tony answered in a monotone, having realized a second before Clint's proclamation. "There's only one person who knew that we were going in today _and _is good enough to cause that big of a mess." He sunk to the floor, holding his head in his hands. "Pepper's going to fucking _kill _me."

"Pepper, Bobbi, May and Skye," Clint corrected him. "They'll have our asses if we let Nat get killed."

Bruce looked over at Steve, who had gone completely white, his knees beginning to shake. Thor caught him before he hit the ground, lowering him onto the couch.

_There was so much he hadn't said. He'd never said how he'd admired that she had a brain and always spoke her mind. He'd never taken the time to shower her with compliments, whether they be on her fighting skills or her outfit that day. _In a moment of betrayal, his mind flashed back on her easy camaraderie with Hunter the day the Bus team had come to visit. How she'd dragged him into a room, locking the door, proclaiming that there was business to be done. The look she'd given him when Skye had been called out as Mulan's grandma.

_And now she was going to die. Perhaps she was already dead. _

Well, he sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen. If not for his sake, then for the sake of the mercenary's. Steve closed his eyes, counted to ten, and took a deep breath, the color coming back into his face. When he felt well enough, he stood, retrieving his shield from the edge of the couch. As he prepared to leave, his hand reaching for the doorknob, Clint's voice stopped him. "Where you goin', Cap?"

"I'm going in." Determination was ablaze in his eyes. "If Agent Romanoff is going down, I fully intend to go down with her. A captain always goes down with his team." And with that, he left, leaving all four Avengers to stare after him. There was a moment of silence before Clint made to stand up, grabbing his quiver and following him.

"Nat's my best friend. If anyone's going to die, it might as well be me. She's worth so much more than I am." Bruce and Thor followed after that, the latter proclaiming,

"In the name of Asgard, let me die in the heat of battle if I must. It will be an honor to die in the name of aiding Lady Romanoff." Soon it was just Tony, who was mournfully staring at the door, realizing what just happened.

"JARVIS, get my suit assembled. And call Coulson and tell him to get his ass over here. Send anyone he can get. If we're gonna go down, we're all gonna go down together."

* * *

The Hulk didn't seem necessary, Bruce decided when they reached the scene. Natasha had already torched so much of the building it looked like a single shot from one of Clint's arrows would bring the whole place down. He said so to Clint, warning him to carefully aim his shots. Clint just gave him a rueful look.

"They call me Hawkeye for a reason, Bruce."

"I know," Bruce assured him tiredly. "I'm just saying don't bring down the building. Everyone else would probably go down with it, and while that would normally be a scene we'd want, we've got Romanogers in there not knowing that they're meant for each other." Clint's face morphed into one of surprise, and he laughed. "What, you thought you were the only one that shipped it?" A large explosion came from the building, and both of them quickly turned their eyes back to the scene to see a corner of the building fall, the marble sending plumes of dust into the air.

Clint whistled. "Whew. The French government is gonna be _pissed._" He turned to Bruce, going into mission mode. "I need you to stay here and be prepared for medical in case one of us comes out in less-than-stellar condition. Plus, Tony said he's called Coulson, so keep an eye out for them, too." He was about to charge in, but stopped and turned around. "Stay safe." With that, he was off, an arrow already fitted to his quiver.

"_Avengers. Avengers, report." _May's voice came into Bruce's ear, and he quickly seized onto the opportunity.

"Agent May, is your entire team listening?"

"_We are now," _came Skye's chipper voice over the com device. At a pause which he could only assume was May's silent glare, she defended, _"You can't expect us to suddenly jet off to France and not know what's going on, AM. Plus, Bobbi kinda threatened me." _The next pause was supposedly a glare at Bobbi, the agent recoiling in response. _"So what's going on?"_

"_Agent May and the team are currently three miles from the location," _JARVIS announced, and Bruce nodded silently to himself.

"Look," he told them, "Tony, Clint, Steve, Thor and Natasha are all in the building, attempting to take out what's left of HYDRA in it. The guys should be in okay shape. Natasha I'm not so sure about."

"_Are you trying to say something, Dr. Banner?" _Bobbi threatened. She didn't take well to hearing that her boyfriend had jumped headfirst into a fight without backup. _Again. _

"No, no, no, that's not what I'm saying," he hurriedly corrected. "Natasha sort of went in as bait while Tony and Steve were arguing over semantics," he admitted. "We didn't know she was gone until Clint went to get her out of bed and broke down the door and saw she was gone." A flurry of outraged comments filled the comm device, most of them coming from Skye and Bobbi. May had chosen to stay silent, her anger speaking volumes more than words ever did.

Suddenly, the roar of an engine filled his ear, the sound of a large plane touching down. Bruce turned to see Hunter, Bobbi, Skye, May and Coulson sprinting out of the Bus and into the wreckage, weapons drawn.

"We're going to have a conversation about this when it's all over," May said shortly to him before heading in. "Natasha should _never _have been risked like that."

Bruce couldn't have agreed more.

* * *

This was the fifth room, Steve worried, and still no Natasha. There were, however, plenty of dead people, most of them bleeding from a gunshot wound to the head or stomach. Smoke filled the air as various machines sparked, having been ruined with a single bullet to the hard drive. Still, a little extra help didn't hurt, and he made sure to bash his shield into every machine he encountered.

He was unexpectedly rushed by a large army of men in the hallway, guns drawn. "DROP ZE SHIELD!" one threatened, pulling the safety. "We have ze spy in custody," he hissed. "Drop ze shield, and maybe you both shall live a long and prosperous life with HYDRA." At the mention of Natasha being held captive, red seemed to flood Steve's vision, and he threw his shield with a grunt, letting it ricochet off of the carotid arteries of several men (another handy little trick Natasha had taught him: he'd have to thank her later, when they were both out alive) and retrieving a gun from the small of his back, taking out the additional men with a well-aimed shot. Catching his shield in his left hand, the gun remained steady, wary eyes checking to see if the men were well and truly dead.

Good. Now, if only he could find her. He'd really let her have it this time. What had she been thinking, going in by herself...didn't she know that they would have fought for her? Didn't she know that _he _would have fought for her? She wasn't some life to throw away. Natasha was a life worth fighting for, Steve told himself, a life he hadn't given the same consideration since...

...since he'd met Peggy.

From a perch in the rafters, Clint observed the super-soldier's sudden fit of rage upon hearing that the spy was being held captive, and silently chuckled to himself. Those two would be good for each other. Lord knows they needed it.

And plus, it prevented Bobbi from having to cancel date nights when Natasha called her, blubbering about how hopelessly in love she was with the super soldier. There were only so many times you could hear the spiel without wanting to shoot someone.

* * *

_"Alors, la fameuse Black Widow,"_ one of the men sneered, pointing his gun at Natasha, who was cowering against the wall. Cowering defiantly, but still cowering all the same. She refused to let fear show on her face, even when she was facing down a firing squad. _"Finalement, nous rencontrons."_

_"Je ne jamais deviendre HYDRA,"_ she spat in his face, her eyes hardening. _"J'aime autant de mourir."_

_"Oui?"_ He flicked the safety off, and she took a deep breath. Sent her last thoughts up to heaven-or wherever it was that would make sure her thoughts were heard. _Tell Steve I didn't want to leave him. That I would have asked him out, but he didn't deserve someone like me. Tell Clint that he'd better marry Bobbi or I'm going to kick his ass in the afterlife. Tell Tony not to try and bring me back. Tell May and Skye and Bobbi-_

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud metal _clang_, and several men fell to the ground, each of them bleeding profusely from the carotid artery. She looked up in shock, still in slight disbelief that she wasn't dead, to see Steve, retucking his shield behind him and glaring at her. _Well. Angry Steve beats being dead, but only by a bit. _Natasha shivered. _Damn. I'm so dead._

"I had this handled, Rogers," she told him, her voice flat and emotionless. He raised an eyebrow at her-damn whoever had taught him to do that (oh, wait, she had)-and looked pointedly at the several men now lying dead on the ground.

"Didn't seem like you did."

Natasha was about to retort when another group of men rushed into the room, forcing them to back against each other, ready to strike and cover the other when needed. There was a thick tension in the air while both parties waited to see who would shoot first.

_"Qui veut aller premierement, monsieurs?"_ she purred, while at the same time flicking off of her safety. Steve silently snorted. He should've predicted Natasha's flawless French, yet here they were, and he was still surprised as all get-out. _"Personne? Bien. Je commencerai."_ And she was off, two men down in the blink of an eye. The stunned men had to shake their heads for a minute-a _Russian _assassin speaking _French _wasn't something you saw every day-and went down instead, bullets in their heads. On her other side, Steve was deflecting bullets and delivering them alike-and sometimes both.

One of the men, having pushed himself up against a wall after Natasha had put a bullet in his back, slowly angled his gun at her back, she being preoccupied in taking another man down. This one knew Krav Maga, apparently. Steve caught the action out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly shot the man he was dealing with, wasting a couple of bullets in order to get to the threat, and quickly smashed his head in with his shield, the man slumping back down onto the ground. Across the room, Natasha looked at him in surprise, all the while effortlessly aiming a kick at the man's stomach and sending him sprawling to the ground.

"There are some people worth fighting for," was all Steve managed to get out before engaging into combat with another man, this time needing to use a small knife for up-close combat. He was quickly dispatched, and the two of them fought in silence for a while, slowly but surely wiping out the rest of the men.

Once all of the men were shot, bleeding out, or a combination of both, Natasha turned to Steve, her arms crossed while he slung his shield onto his back. "I know," she said, immediately bringing back their previous discussion. "Why do you think I went in there by myself?"

"Look, Natasha," Steve sighed heavily, mirroring her posture. "I know that you've got a thing for Hunter and all, but just because you've got it in your head that you're not worth anything doesn't mean you're not. You can't just go off gallivanting by yourself and risking your life anymore, it's not-"

He was cut off by an explosion of laughter. "TELL ME YOU GOT THAT ON RECORDING, SKYE, TELL ME YOU GOT THAT RECORDED!" came Hunter's wheezing voice over the comm. "TELL ME."

"I _cannot _believe that just happened," Skye gasped, attempting to catch her breath. "Did Steve really just-"

"That just happened," Bobbi said, dumbstruck. "That. Just. Happened."

"Did you get that bloody recording or not, Skye?"

"I did. I did. Jesus, we'll be telling that one forever."

"You've got to be kidding me," Clint chortled. "You've _got _to be kidding me."

"I wish I was," Skye deadpanned. "I really, really wish I was."

"Will someone tell me what the hell's going on?" Steve demanded of the hysterical Bus team. "And quickly, before someone _else _figures out that we're here and comes to attack us."

"Building's secure," Tony jumped in. "You and Natashalie took out a good majority of the men. Hey," he said, to Skye more than anything. "You got that on record? I need to keep that for the wedding someday."

"Wedding? Recording? What the hell?!" Steve was clearly growing more frustrated by the minute. "And I can hear you chortling, Director Coulson," he growled, and Coulson quickly shut up, mortified that he'd been heard. "This isn't exactly funny."

"Should we tell him?" Skye asked the Bus team. They all responded with a vehement 'YES.' "Steve, why don't you repeat what you just said to Natasha."

"That I know she has a thing for Hunter? Honestly, I don't see what that has to do with anything..." He trailed off as everyone began to laugh again-this time, even Natasha had the tiniest hint of a grin on her face, her foot tapping as she waited for him to get the joke.

"Okay, so say it again to Hunter's girlfriend." Skye commanded, and at once, Steve turned to Natasha, stopping when he heard their loud groans. "Hint, Steve. You can't _see _Hunter's girlfriend. She's not in the room with you. Probably not on the same floor."

"Other hint," Fitz butted in before Simmons shushed him. "She was _just talking to you_."

Steve stopped. No way. "Wait. Agent Skye," he began, hating how desperate he sounded. "You and Hunter? Then who...? What...?"

'Oh thank God' could be echoed several times over, Coulson's being the loudest. "It's like I run a kindergarten here. Can we stop passing notes and get to the actual thing here?" He was immediately shot down by a loud protest.

"It's _fun_, AC! We _never_ get to have fun on the job!"

Completely lost, Steve turned to Natasha for help, only to be stunned when she rapped him in the head instead. "_You, _you idiot. _You're _the one that was worth fighting for." At her admission, she stepped back, her voice dropping an octave. "You didn't deserve to get into any future crosshairs my past might bring me." Silently, she dropped her gun back into her holster, starting towards the door. "I'll catch you downstairs." The chatter that had been the Bus team suddenly stopped, each member holding their breath.

"Icameinbecauseofyou." She stopped and pivoted at his rushed confession, confusion written into her emerald eyes. Still refusing to look directly into his.

"Wait, what?"

"I came. In here. Because of you. _You_ were worth fighting for."

Somewhere in those terse three lines, Skye had muted the comms, so no one was the wiser when Natasha slowly turned around, walking back to Steve, their bodies now inches apart. He tilted her chin up so that their eyes met. "And I intend to tell you that for the rest of my life."

They missed the first, second and third kiss. They missed the goofy grins that accompanied the end of the third kiss, the happy sigh emanating from Natasha as she wrapped her arms around Steve, reveling in the moment.

"We so owe Skye for threatening Tony with _Frozen,_" she said, as Steve chuckled.

"Yes. Yes, we do. Now let's get out of here."

* * *

"Aw come on, May!" Hunter whined. "Do I really have to do laundry for the month? Can't Skye do it instead? It is a-"

"You were saying, babe?" Out of nowhere, Skye appeared with a large water gun filled with soda. "I believe it was something about laundry being a woman's job?"

"N-n-no," Hunter stuttered as FitzSimmons roared with laughter. "I was about to say...er...umm...that it's a job I'll be _happy _to do! Yeah, that's it! I'll be happy to do it!" he babbled, laughing nervously until Skye lowered the water gun, still giving him a menacing look. May gave her a meaningful glance, and she sighed and reached into her back pocket.

"Alright, alright, here's your twenty," she grumbled, slapping it into her S.O's outstretched palm. "I still don't get how you predicted that they'd get together during the mission." Similar complaints were made by Bobbi, Coulson and FitzSimmons as they paid up, the wad of money in May's hand growing quite large. Hunter had been the only one foolish enough to bet his month of free chores.

"Spies think alike," was all she said, pocketing the money. "Spies all think alike."

* * *

**Aaand that's it for this week! Or not. Depending on whether I want to smack out more plot bunnies on the list. We'll see. **

_**Alors, la fameuse Black Widow-**_**Well, the famous Black Widow**

_**Finalement, nous rencontrons-**_**F****inally, we meet**

_**Je ne jamais deviendre HYDRA-**_**I will never become HYDRA**

_**J'aime autant de mourir-**_**I would rather die**

**_Oui?_-Yes?**

_**Qui veut aller premierement, monsieurs?-**_**Who wants to go first, gentlemen?**

_**Personne? Bien. Je commencerai.-**_**No one? Good. I'll start.**

**Read and review? It really would make this week so much easier! Best review gets the recording between the Bus team and the Avengers! Happy Valentine's Day...even though I personally hate the holiday this year...**


	28. Getting America'd

**Wow, my imagination ran away from me on this one...as a result, my fingers have all tired out, and I'm SO DONE with sitting at my desk chair...this may or may not count as the weekend update. I'm on vacation. We'll see.**

**Shoutout to Horselover2002, akimat, and 1 for following! The recording goes to LeDbrite, for the second week in a row! (Partly because we share a questioning for the holiday that is Valentine's Day xD)**

* * *

He'd thought it would be too early for them to even think about. When all else failed, get up at an hour too ungodly to even fathom. It'd always worked in the past times. So many times, in fact, that Steve had started to use it as his primary routine.

Of course, he should've known better that the three of them were anything but persistent. The whole affair had been going on for months now, and every tactic had been used. Interrogation. Surprise tactics. Even setting Thor on him. None of them had worked so far, although he'd almost gotten hit by Mjolnir that one time.

There was just no giving up, was there? As a matter of fact, Steve mused, the whole thing had probably been Bucky's idea. Damn Bucky and his ability to stay on military time. He couldn't blame him, though, as Steve did the exact same thing-up and running by seven, anything after that was considered a crime. Lord knew Tony and Clint wouldn't imagine getting up any earlier than noon. Ten, maybe, if Steve was making pancakes.

It totally explained why the three of them had decided to ambush him in the kitchen at five-thirty. Bucky looking wide awake and chipper, Tony and Clint considerably less so. Steve'd been making pancakes, whistling silently to himself, when there was suddenly a tap on his shoulder.

"Did you do it yet?"

He whirled around to see Bucky smirking infuriatingly at him, his metal hand leaning casually on the counter. "Well? Did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." For reasons unknown, Steve's brain had chosen to short out at that moment in time. Had it been any other time of day, he would've remembered this line of interrogation-and the five other times it'd been used-but not this time. "What was I supposed to have done?"

"Aw, come on, man. _You know_." Bucky turned to Clint and Tony, who were half asleep at the kitchen island, Tony grasping at an imaginary coffee cup. "Tell him guys,"

"Too tired," Clint moaned. "This was a bad idea. I didn't even know an hour like this existed without coffee." Tony just nodded in agreement, head drifting alarmingly towards the table. "'S not even worth it, man. Not even worth it."

"Fine, you weaklings, go back to bed," Bucky huffed, and there was an audible sigh from Clint and Tony as they shuffled back to the elevator, clearly relieved to jump back into the arms of their blankets. "I'll handle this myself." As soon as the door shut, all of his attentions were focused back onto Steve. "So didja, punk?"

"Do _what_, Bucky?" His best friend's question had taken a backseat to the pancakes that were currently sitting in the pan, letting out a cheerful sizzle as Steve poured the batter in. "Can't you see that I'm busy?"

Bucky theatrically looked around to see if anyone was watching (JARVIS was, obviously, but he chose not to acknowledge that.), and leaned in, stage whispering,

"Ask out Natasha, of course!"

Steve whipped around so fast with the pan in his head Bucky was almost hit in the face with it. "Why the hell would I do that?" he hissed, looking with half a mind to _actually _clock Bucky with the pan. But then that'd be a waste of a perfectly good pancake... "What gives you the idea that I'd _ever _ask out Natasha?" As far as he knew, JARVIS hadn't said anything about his nightly musings...right? He cast his eyes up to the AI, who slightly tilted a security camera in response. _That would be a no_. "What's Stark got you testing this time?"

"Nothing," Bucky insisted, eyes wide. Steve doubtedly eyed him. "Nothing! But seriously, man. You and Romanoff need to...what's the word Stark said...damn it, I can't remember...oh, what the hell. You two need to fondue already!"

The whole Tower was awakened by Bucky's screams, followed by the sound of a thrown frying pan. Bruce just put his pillow over his head. It wasn't even six.

* * *

_So._

The one word text popped up on the lock screen of Steve's phone, causing him to frown at it. The word popped up once again, this time accompanied by an ellipsis. _So..._

_What is it, Stark?_

_I happened 2 hear the commotion dis morning..._

_And?_

_I have 2 ask, man. Have 2. Barnes is gonna kill me if I don't ask_

_Tony, if Bucky's going to kill you, I'm sure there's a perfectly acceptable reason that will make the entire thing justifiable. So therefore, I will not care. _

_Come on, Capsicle. A little luv here?_

_Only if you start using proper grammar._

_Okay, okay... _There was a pause, during which Steve took the time to pour another pancake into the griddle. He may have banned Bucky from this morning's batch, but there were still some people (aka Bruce, Natasha and Thor) that liked consuming the flapjacks. Thor had considered them equal to the status of a Pop-Tart. That was saying something. And any excuse he got to see Natasha smile, exclusive whipped cream smiley face or not, was too good to pass up.

_Pep's breathing over my shoulder now to make sure I use proper sentence structure. So I gotta ask. Although, if you don't answer, you're kind of answering it, you know what I mean?_

_No. Just spit it out, Stark. _There was another pause.

_Are you and Natashalie doing the horizontal tango yet?_

_Cap?_

_Capsicle?_

_Um, Steve? Why is there the sound of thundering footsteps coming towards my door...?_

_oh shi_

"You've _got _to be kidding me," Bruce muttered as Tony's screams were the ones that echoed in the hallways this time. "I didn't think he was capable of this before a cup of coffee." He curled back into his blankets, trying to drown out the sounds of destruction and screaming. "Just another hour, is that too much to ask for?"

* * *

"I swear to God, if you even _think _about hurting her, I will end you. Painfully. In every way possible. Then I'll have you brought back to life so I can kill you again. Are we clear?"

Steve had been whaling away at a punching bag in the training room, getting in his daily exercise, when Clint had suddenly dropped out of a vent in front of him, arrow notched and at the ready. He grabbed the bag to still it, staring confusedly at Clint as he unwrapped his hands. "Hurt who, Barton?"

"You know who I'm talking about," Clint growled, stringing his arrow tighter. "You and I both know damn well who you're talking about. Don't toss her around like she's an object-we know she's so much more than that. I may respect you, Cap, but I respect her more."

"Clint, I have _no _idea what you're talking about," Steve said, now even more confused than before. "The only women I talk to on a regular basis are Natasha, Pepper and Agent Hill, and Pepper's-" He cocked his head at the archer. "Are you suggesting that I'm going steady with Agent Hill?" Because there was no way in hell he'd ever think about Natasha in that way. She would kill him if he'd even _begun _to think about something like that.

Much to his credit, Clint lowered his bow to facepalm. "Did you really just say 'going steady' to me, Cap?" he asked. "Did you really? Please tell me that's not what you just said. No one even says that anymore."

"I thought it was better than any other modern alternative Tony decided to teach me," he shrugged. "Besides, we're not talking about someone of ill-repute here." He paused. "Are we?"

"We're not, and it's not Agent Hill I'm threatening you on," Clint answered, glaring at Steve. "That being said, everything I said still stands." A moment too late, the super-soldier realized just who he'd been talking about. Steve groaned internally.

"Clint, you know Natasha and I aren't together...right?"

In a blink, Clint's face changed from serious to mischevious. "Of course I do. Doesn't mean you shouldn't ask her out." And with that, he dashed out of the room.

Steve gave him a five-minute head start before plowing out of the training room, hot on his heels. "BARTON!"

* * *

"Plan C?"

"Plan C. If this doesn't work, I don't know what will."

* * *

"You're telling me you've NEVER played Hungry Hungry Hippos?" Clint demanded, hurrying to catch up with Natasha's long strides as they traversed down the hallway. "Not once. Not ever. Not even when you were undercover at all." His voice rose another octave in disbelief. "_Never_?"

She stopped at once and glared at him, effectively stopping him in his tracks. "Does it look like I ever had time to play silly games during my time undercover, Barton?"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead dramatically. Then, raised an eyebrow and pointed to a nondescript door at the end of the hallway. "There, in that closet, is every single board game known to man. I'm willing to wager my next month's SHIELD salary that you haven't played _any _of those games. Go pick one. I'll teach you how to play it." Rolling her eyes, Natasha stalked down to the closet, throwing open the door and wandering in. Quick as a flash, Clint was at the door, slamming it shut and picking the lock.

"DAMMIT, BARTON! LET ME OUT!" By the time Natasha had realized what was going on, he was already halfway towards the elevator.

Eyeing the lock, Natasha wondered what her odds were, should she try and shoot the lock. As good as her aim was, she wasn't sure she could shoot a lock in complete darkness. Let alone in a confining space where it could as easily ricochet off and injure herself. No, shooting the lock would only be futile. She'd be better off biding her time until someone came to get her. Then she'd exact her revenge on Clint. Slowly, surely, and painfully.

THUNK.

"What the hell?" That voice sounded familiar, she decided. Almost a little too familiar. _Hm, locked in somewhere with Steve, huh? _a voice echoed in her mind. _You know you want it, Natalia. Don't even try to deny it. _"STARK!"

"You too?" she asked, causing the other person to jump, colliding with what sounded like a wooden shelf. The other person swore once more. "Barton. I take it that was Stark."

There was a heavy sigh as a light flickered on, a result of Steve having found a pull string. "Hi, Natasha." Dimly lit as he was, she couldn't help but run her eyes over him appreciatively, taking in everything his tight white shirt had to offer. "How'd you get locked in here?"

"Barton," she replied effortlessly, walking towards him, examining the shelves around her. Box after box was stacked on them, dust prevailing on some. "Seems like we've been shoved into a closet together." She cocked a head at him. "Odd. Didn't we do that to May and Coulson when they came to visit last time?"

"That we did," he answered, trying his very best _not _to freak out. Here he was, standing in a closet with one of the most deadly women he'd ever met, having a conversation about being locked in a closet. "Seems like that's where they got the idea."

"It seems so," Natasha murmured, stretching for a box on the shelf. "At least they weren't lying about the games." Even on her tiptoes, she wasn't able to reach it, and she tensed slightly as Steve was behind her, reaching up for the intended box. "This the one you wanted?"

"Yeah," she exhaled, trying not to show her slightly rattled exterior. Who knew? Five minutes in a closet with him and she was _this _close to losing it. "Never played Hungry Hungry Hippos before."

"Neither have I," he confessed, reaching for the box, taking it from her arms. "I think it was invented after I went under." Steve peered into the box, which contained four colored hippos, each with their own set of white marbles. "Shall we?"

* * *

"That marble's mine, Rogers!"

"Don't even think about it, Romanoff."

Both Steve and Natasha were stretched out on the floor of the game closet, avidly mashing their levers, trying to get their respective hippo to eat the lone white marble in the middle of the board. Early on, they'd started a competition to see who would win the most games. So far, Natasha was winning, three games to two. The fate of the current game was in a tie, both of them having captured the same amount of marbles each.

They'd been like this for close to an hour, the only sign of the time passing the increasing ache in their joints as they were on their elbows, hammering madly at the levers. Neither of them were ready to give up, however, each of them was damned that they would lose to the other.

Steve glared determinedly at Natasha, whose hand was poised over her lever, his likewise. "You're never going to get that marble." Their noses were centimeters apart, the tension thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

Natasha slapped her lever, a short, quick sound in the silence, relishing in the slight catch the hippo made, a sign that she'd caught the marble. "I believe I just did."

"Hey! You two lovebirds done the dirty yet?" Clint pounded on the door, startling the both of them out of their little bubble. "Stark's standing outside the door with a mop, water and a hazmat suit." He paused. "Please tell me we're not going to need the bleach."

"Charge him on the count of three?" Steve muttered to her, getting up, wincing as his joints popped. She nodded, a quick, jerky bob, an emotionless facade settling once more on her face.

"Let's do this."

"I was beginning to think you two'd killed each other, honestly-" Clint was cut off by Steve grabbing him by the throat and hoisting him over this shoulder, setting off in search of Tony. Natasha followed him, inconspicuously taking out a knife and examining its edges. "Blame Bucky!" he exclaimed hysterically. "It was his idea! Or, better yet, blame Tony! It was Tony's fault! I had no part in it! Tony just promised me a nest!"

"TONNNYY!"

* * *

He'd forgotten what peace and quiet sounded like. As he climbed up the stairs to his apartment floor in Brooklyn, Steve was glad once more that he'd taken the time to buy out the small space. As much as he loved Stark Tower and all its inhabitants (let's face it, in varying degrees,) sometimes a man needed space to himself. It was only natural.

His bag slung over his shoulder, he emerged into the hallway, whistling and fishing for the keys inside of his pocket. He'd stay here for a couple of days, get his head together, and by the time he returned, hopefully Tony, Bucky and Clint would have let up on teasing him about asking out Natasha. Steve felt marginally bad about abandoning her to the abundance of testosterone, but he figured she would be more than capable of causing them injury, should it be needed. _Where were those keys?_

"So you're Grant Stevens," a sultry voice sounded behind him. "Thought we'd never meet."

"Natalie Rushman," he sighed, turning around to face the fiery redhead behind him, who was smirking as she twirled a key ring in her hand. "From Stark's time, I take it?"

"At least I was good about it," Natasha rolled her eyes good-naturedly, stepping around him to her own apartment door next door. "Could you have been any more obvious?" She didn't say anything about buying the apartment in the slightest hopes that the constantly absent neighbor was Steve. "It's literally your middle and first name mashed together, Steve."

"Please," Steve snorted, finally finding his keys in his pocket. Turned out they'd been in the right one, not the left. "The initials are different. More than I could say about yours." His keys dangling on his finger, he turned to her. "What are you doing here, anyways?"

"Thought I should take some time off from the antics going on," she replied dismissively. The lock sounded, and she swung her door in, but didn't make a move in. "Sometimes the children are a little too much to handle."

"You could say that again," he chuckled, opening his own door and heading in. "Well, Miss...Rushman, it was nice to see you." He tipped an imaginary cap at her. "I imagine we'll be seeing a lot more of each other in the immediate future."

"You too...Grant."

* * *

SLUMP.

Steve stilled, the steam of the shower rising around him. Was someone trying to break into his apartment? Who even knew he was here? Certainly not SHIELD. That left either someone out to get him, or a random mugging. He was willing to bet the latter.

Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist, he stepped out of the bathroom, humming to himself as if nothing was wrong. Silently, he picked up his shield, which was leaning against the wall in the hallway, then slowly tiptoed towards the living room, weapon aloft.

"Drop it, soldier." Eyeing the flimsy towel wrapped around his waist, Natasha revised her earlier statement. "Or not. That towel looks like it could go any second." Her lips quirked up into a smirk. "Not that I'd be complaining if it did."

True to his mannerisms, Steve blushed and dropped the shield, albeit with a loud CLANG. "Nat. What are you doing here?"

"My fridge was empty," she answered. "Figured that, the good little Boy Scout that you are, you had yours stocked right after you got in." She gestured to the rolled-up object on the floor. "And that's my air mattress. I'm taking over your living room floor-it'll be like a sleepover. Whadya think?"

Steve was silent for a couple of moments, trying to think of the best line to get him out of this _very _awkward situation. His jaw opened and closed for a minute, trying to work out the words. "Uh-I-well-you see-" Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, causing his blush to deepen even further. "Of course you came in through the window" was all he finally came up with.

"It would've been a lot quieter, except the damn roll doesn't fit on my back." She rolled her eyes. "Had to throw it in. Thanks for not coming out with a firing squad. By the way, nice tenor," she told him, resisting the urge to laugh as he fidgeted. "Ever been in a men's chorus?"

"I-I'm just gonna go put on a shirt now," Steve stammered, and Natasha snickered. "And then we'll talk." He backed slowly down the short hallway, finally turning onto his heel and scurrying into his room. It was only then that she laughed.

"Don't forget to put on pants, too."

* * *

"Aw, you didn't have to make breakfast," Steve said to Natasha the next morning, upon awakening to the smell of bacon and eggs. "You already paid for takeout last night."

"Shut up, Rogers, and just let me cook," she said to him without even turning around. "I haven't had the chance to cook in forever."

"I thought you liked my cooking," he protested, opening the fridge and rummaging for his jar of orange juice. "I like to think that my pancakes are pretty good." He brightened as he reached for a large ceramic bowl wrapped in saran wrap. "Actually, I whipped up some batter last night." He clutched the bowl in his arms, smiling innocently at her. "May I?"

Natasha just slid the eggs and bacon onto two respective plates, stepping aside. "By all means." Smoothly, she slipped the apron off and put it over his head, reaching around his waist to tie the strings. "Wouldn't want to get hit by grease, would we?"

Steve was so flustered the first spoonful of batter missed the pan, landing onto the stove instead. She just laughed, a small chuckle that made his brain go fuzzy, and adjusted his hand. "There. Now come on, I want pancakes."

True to his word, said chocolate chip pancakes were served in a heaping stack on a Captain America plate, drizzled in maple syrup and accompanied with a large whipped cream smile.

She wouldn't say that the best part was knowing that the smile was hers and hers alone.

* * *

"You and I know just as well that we're going to go bat-shit crazy unless we get out and do something," Natasha said later to Steve, as they sat on her mattress. "And by that, I mean I'm probably going to end up killing you for fun." He blanched. "Steve, I'm kidding."

"Let's be tourists for a day." he suggested. At her look, he shrugged. "What? The city's changed a lot since I've last been in it. Plus, you're always complaining about this city being a tourist trap." He raised an eyebrow. "Prove it."

"Fine, but you mention one word of any of this to Tony and you're a dead man."

Steve winked, a gesture that had Natasha turning away in fear of him seeing her blush. "Don't think it would be a bad way to die if you killed me."

* * *

**M&amp;M World**

"I have to ask," Steve said, as they were immediately mobbed by a swarm of shoppers. "Just what is an M&amp;M?" Natasha stood suddenly still, causing several people to bump into her, much to their indignation.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Can't you see there's a flow?"

"Stupid foreign tourists."

Steve would have liked very much to point out that he was the living embodiment of the country, thank you very much, but it probably wouldn't have helped their cover. The last thing he needed was to be chased down a city block (or two) by a horde of fangirls.

"You seriously don't know what an M&amp;M is?"

"I mean, I get the concept of it," he hastened to explain, "I just don't get why they each have these...personalities." Natasha quickly grabbed his hand and dragged him over to a wall with a large, towering red M&amp;M, with the word 'RED!' emblazoned above it in capital letters.

"This is red," she began, pointing at the character. "Thinks he knows everything. Lies about his age a lot. Pretty smart, for such a self-obsessed man." She paused, 'hmm'-ing a bit to herself before continuing, "It's like Stark-but in a candy form."

"He'd hate to hear that," Steve rolled his eyes. "He'd think there was a candy specifically created to hold his personality."

"Pretty much," she concluded quippily, leading him over to the yellow M&amp;M. "And this is Clint. I don't even have to explain much, do I?"

"No. I'm pretty sure he dressed up as a yellow M&amp;M for Halloween last year," he answered. "I remember being confused and Tony trying to find other candies that matched him." Suddenly, a nondescript machine caught his eye. "Are those dog tags?"

Natasha's green eyes lit up as she followed his gaze, drifting towards the machine. "We totally need to get those." Steve gave her a questioning look. "What? It seems pretty touristy. We're tourists today, remember?"

"Fine." Steve inserted the proper amount of money into the machine, poking the appropriate buttons. "But you're not allowed to see what I got until we're both done."

"I'm not telling you what I'm getting," she replied easily as he stared at his tag, the machine's gears working. "How about, one day, when we both feel ready to, we'll share." His tag flashed out, and he scooped it up, deftly putting it onto the chain.

"Deal. Although I'm not sure when that day's ever going to come." He stepped aside to let Natasha have her turn, hers churning out much more quickly than his. It was immediately covered by her clenched fist, then swept over her neck and tucked under her hoodie.

"Shall we? There's a whole other floor of candy you need to see."

* * *

"That's a _person_?" Steve exclaimed, mildly horrified at the sight. "There's a person underneath all of that fur?"

"Welcome to the horrors of street performers, Steve," Natasha replied, chuckling quietly to herself. "That there's a Statue of Liberty," she pointed out. "Then there's an Empire State Building, a Buzz Lightyear...oh, hey look, there's an Elmo!" She smiled childishly, laughing at Steve's horrified face. "Isn't Elmo cute?"

"Isn't that what they put on children's shows?"

"Yeah. _Elmo loves his goldfish, his crayons too! That's Elmo's Worrrllld!" _she sang in a high pitched voice, Steve looking ready to turn tail and bolt. "We won't go near them if you don't want to. God knows where their hands have been."

"Good." Steve shuddered and turned away, observing the street. "You know, there's always been one thing I've wanted to do since waking up," he said to her. "And I think it's a pretty touristy thing to do."

"What?" Natasha turned to him with the smallest look of confusion on her face, absolutely still while throngs of people swarmed around her. He motioned for her to stay still, raising his camera and snapping a picture. The end result was something to be found in a photographic studio-Natasha, with an absorbed look, gazing off into some distance, absolutely still, while the rest of the world moved around her.

"Perfect." He showed her the shot. "I'd never had anyone to stand still for me before."

"Then by all means, you must have a turn, sir." Steve laughed in confusion-him? really?-and blinked as Natasha snapped a picture with _her _camera, lips tugging to one side as she examined the result. "Hm. Not as good as yours, but I think it'll do." The camera swung down to her side once more.

"Excuse me? Are you the Black Widow?"

He felt her involuntarily tense, and looked around for the source of the voice before he saw it-a tiny girl, no more than eight years old, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a look of hope on her face for the ages. "Hi. What's your name?" he asked, kneeling down to her level. The girl's eyes widened to the size of saucers: if she'd been flustered before at recognizing the Black Widow, being recognized by Captain America was even worse.

"Taylor." she said quietly. "Taylor Hartley." Shyly, she held out a piece of paper and a pen to the super-soldier. "Thank you for what you did in New York," she began. "My daddy was in the building that you and Black Widow saved. He said that if you hadn't pushed her off of your shield, his building was gonna get hit."

At that, Natasha turned around and bent down to Taylor's level as well, the hard look in her green eyes softening. "Hi, Taylor," she said, and Taylor waved shyly. "How are you today?"

"I'm good," the girl answered. "It's my daddy's birthday today, and we're going out to celebrate." The adoration was clear in her blue eyes, making Natasha smile. "He says you two are the only reason he's alive."

"I'm sure there are plenty more reasons," Steve said gently, signing the paper and handing it over to Natasha. "It seems like your dad is a very brave man." Taylor nodded as Natasha handed the paper back to her, the eight-year-old clutching it tightly to her chest.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." they answered in unison, smiling at each other when they heard the sync.

"Are you guys together?" What previous friendliness they'd had quickly vanished; Steve jerked his arm away from Natasha's, she in turn took a small scooch away from him.

"No, honey, we're not," she apologized to Taylor, whose face looked crestfallen. "I'll let you in on a secret, though." The little girl leaned in eagerly, Steve turning the other way and pretending not to notice. "I wish we were." Taylor's eyes lit up happily, and Natasha suddenly hugged her, the other hugging her back just as tightly.

"Taylor! There you are!" A harried-looking woman hurried up to them, clutching her bag. "I'm so sorry," she apologized to Steve and Natasha. "She tends to be quite the slippery eel sometimes." Realizing who she was talking to, she quickly floundered. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

"No, no Mrs. Hartley, it's fine," Steve answered, putting the woman right at ease. "Taylor's a wonderful little girl. You're lucky to have someone like her." As Mrs. Hartley and her daughter left, Natasha waved one last goodbye to the girl, delighting when she waved back.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?" he asked when they were once again alone. "She seemed to absolutely _adore _you."

"I told her about Clint and Tony wanting to see us together," she lied smoothly, the bitter disappointment of it hurting only a little. "After all, they do seem to be trying a little too hard to to do it."

* * *

**Ferris Wheel**

"Let me get this straight," Steve said, still in shock at Natasha's confession. "You've never been on a Ferris Wheel." The look on his face couldn't have been worse if he'd tried. "You, the ultra-modern woman, have never been on a Ferris Wheel, while I, the jaded old man, have. Tell me the world's not ending."

"Oh, shut up, Rogers," she said mock-irritably, punching him in the arm. "That's your one thing to what, my five hundred? Besides," she added, glaring at the gaudily lit wheel inside of the Toys R Us. "I never had reason to go on one of those things, anyways."

"Then it's my turn to introduce you to something," he said, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her into the crowded store. "Time to break the Ferris Wheel virgin." She blushed uncharacteristically when he said that, glad that he wasn't facing her. Otherwise, it would've meant a whole other hour of teasing. "Two, please." he said to the cashier, who printed out two tickets, motioning for them to get in line.

"Did we have to get on _this _one?" she complained when they were standing, waiting for their turn. "Out of all of the Ferris Wheels you could've broken me into, you chose _this _one?" Luckily, no one was riding the wheel this time of day, and the line moved fairly quickly. "This is probably the most touristy thing we've done all day." As their cart neared, Natasha couldn't help but burst into laughter, while Steve looked merely disgruntled. "This couldn't get any better."

"I'm sure this is just _hilarious_ to you," he muttered as they stepped into the Captain America pod. "Go on. Get out all of your jokes. I'm sure they can't get any worse as time goes on."

"You're _Captain America,_", she gasped, bent over double. "In the _Captain America _pod. God, it's like we planned this entire thing." Natasha abruptly stopped laughing as the wheel jolted, and they were suddenly ascending towards the top. Her green eyes went wide with fear, and she clutched the side of the pod with more force than was necessary.

"I hope we stop at the top," Steve said casually, observing his bird's-eye point of view of the store. "That's half of the fun. It's not a Ferris Wheel ride if you don't stop at the top." Then, as if right on cue, they stopped at the top of the wheel's circumference, the pod rocking slightly in its silence. "Nat, are you alright?" he asked, upon seeing the spy's hand clenching the side of the pod. She didn't dare to look at him, lest she show the fear on her face. "Nat?"

"Y'know, being at the top of a Ferris Wheel that's rocking doesn't feel like the best place to be," she quipped, although it had lost most of its usual barb. "Kinda feels like the top of a sniper post. With a slight wind." Suddenly, he understood why she'd been so opposed to the whole venture. Silently, he took her hand, choosing not to comment as she grasped it tightly, staring worriedly off into space as they descended.

Natasha was the first one to scramble off of the pod, Steve a second after. They strolled out of the store, still hand in hand, when he finally spoke. "Nat, you should've just told me. I wouldn't have done that to you if I'd known."

"Let's just agree never to mention it again, okay?" she asked, letting go of his hand. "Now, come on, we're going to Chinatown. I need to work on my bargaining skills. Odin knows they've gotten soft with all of my living in the tower."

* * *

**Chinatown**

"Ah, shit," Natasha muttered as they entered the crowded station. "Getting on a train's going to be impossible." No sooner had she said that than Steve was off, discreetly throwing elbows to part through the crowd, most of the people being shoved not believing that it had been him that was shoving them. Raising her eyebrows in wonder, she silently grabbed onto the back of his coat, letting herself float behind him.

They were soon on a train, grabbing onto the nearest pole. "So. Still surprised, Romanoff?" He didn't tell her that Bucky had taught him how to throw elbows on the subway back before the war. Apparently, he still possessed formidable skills. Although there were definitely a lot more elderly Asian women to elbow this time around, instead of the drinkers and occasional bums. "Didn't think I could be mean, huh?"

"Don't get me wrong, I thought you had it in you," she remarked nonchalantly, before smirking at him. "But the little old Asian ladies, Rogers? Really?"

"Hey, on the subway, it's every man for himself," he defended. "Even if that means having to throw a couple of elbows. Say what you want to say, Romanoff, but I could've easily left you back there."

"Whatever. You wouldn't have left me, and you know it," she teased as the door opened and they joined the crowd flooding out of the car's doors. "Welcome to Manhattan Chinatown. Home of bubble tea and one-dollar meat skewers. Plus, decent restaurants. Come on," she beckoned, "I'm starving. Plus, I think my Mandarin's rusty."

* * *

"Did you-did you just-" All of the words he'd planned to say were snatched right out of Steve's mouth as they sat down. Minutes ago, Natasha had stunned the entire restaurant by waltzing in. The waiter, assuming she spoke English, had asked her how many in her party in halting tones, obviously unfamiliar with the language. She'd replied in fluent Mandarin, with a disarming smile that had the waiter laughing as he scurried off to get their orders.

"Mandarin. Language that's going to take over the world," she said to him, shooting him a grin. "Made sense to learn it over the years. It's been awhile since I've actually had to use it, but hey. Didn't do too badly, I think. At least he didn't try to kill me." She picked up her white teacup, filled to the brim with tea, and took a sip. "Ah, tea. That's the good stuff. Nothing like the crap Banner keeps in the tower." She gestured to him, filling his cup. "Try it."

Initially, all Steve's brain could complain was _hot, hot, hot_, but as it cooled, he was able to appreciate the different strains that had carefully been compiled into the one tea, the fruits and herbs settling into his tongue. "This might almost beat Stark's coffee machine."

Natasha snorted into her tea. "Tea beats coffee any day, Steve. Banner just doesn't have the right ones. Which reminds me," she said to him, picking up her teapot and refilling it. "I need to pick up some tea from one of the markets. Remind me in between the bubble tea and the bargaining." Their food arrived then, a multitude of noodles, dumplings, rice and vegetables. The waiter said something to Natasha, making her laugh as she responded in kind, gesturing to Steve. He seemed to get the gist, for he exclaimed in surprise, the two of them exchanging a short conversation before he left.

He stared at the plates, confounded as to where to start first. "What just happened?"

"He asked why we'd ordered so much," she chuckled, picking up her chopsticks expertly. "I told him you had a giant metabolism and that we had...activities to do. He took that in a way only men could." Some noodles were scooped up with ease onto her plate. "He said if we could eat the whole thing in under an hour, he'd comp it for us."

"I'd be more than happy to take that challenge," Steve said seriously, staring at his own chopsticks and _willing _himself to pick them up. "But I think I need to learn how to use chopsticks first."

Natasha sighed. "Didn't they teach you _anything _useful in the war?" she asked, planting an elbow onto the table and holding up her chopsticks in demonstration. "Hold it like this. First one like you're holding a pencil, second one resting against your middle finger." Her face lit up in delight as Steve picked them up on the first try, experimentally picking up a soup dumpling. "Careful with those. They can-" She was cut off as Steve put the entire thing into his mouth, wincing as the soup inside burned his tongue. "-burst really easily."

Fifteen minutes later, the entire table was consumed, save for one lone soup dumpling. Both Steve and Natasha looked at it, then at each other, as if asking the other if they'd eat it. The surprised wait staff had already picked up the previous plates, muttering to each other in Mandarin. Finally, Steve spoke. "Do _you _want the last crab and pork soup dumpling?"

She snorted. "Did you just High School Musical 3 me?"

"What?"

"Never mind. It's a movie trilogy. Not worth watching unless you're under twelve," Natasha shrugged, once again gesturing with her chopsticks to the last bun. "Do _you _want the last dumpling?"

"Do _you _want it?"

"Kinda." Steve shrugged, expertly flipping his chopsticks over to the less precise end, scooping it up and depositing it onto Natasha's plate.

"All yours." She looked at him with a slight disbelief in her eyes, as if she didn't believe he would've given up the last dumpling for her. Slowly she ate, it, wanting to savor the flavor, grinning as it went down.

"Good thing we ate it all. I don't think I had enough cash to cover the entire meal."

The waiter bustled over one more time, all smiles as he picked up the last plate, taking the opportunity to converse once more with the redheaded beauty who somehow knew fluent Mandarin. Natasha was clearly all grins as she talked with the waiter once more. Suddenly, at one of his inquiries, her face dropped slightly, but picked itself right back up in a fraction of a second before she responded. The waiter nodded somberly, before clapping his hands and bowing, this time turning to address both of them.

"You must return soon!" he proclaimed. "We have free meal any time you two come!"

"Certainly!" Now he could see why Natasha had smiled so much when conversing with him, Steve mused. The man's attitude was contagious. "We're coming back as soon as we can."

"Not too soon, I hope!" was his reply, and both of them laughed, assuring him that no, they wouldn't be back _that _soon, and exited the restaurant, utterly full.

"If you don't mind me asking," Steve began as they emerged into the street arm in arm, "What did the guy say that made your face drop?"

"My face didn't drop," she protested, even though she knew it was futile. Steve knew her too well to not observe each one of her facial expressions.

"Natasha,"

"He asked us if we were together," she answered, playing it off with a scoff. "I told him the same thing we told Taylor. Minus Clint and Tony's names."

He gazed at her, accepting her answer for the moment, but refusing to believe that was the whole story.

"_You two are together, are you not?" The waiter had asked Natasha, the plate still in his hands. "You move with the grace of one person, your conversation is intimate, there is almost no distance between the both of you. Tell me, what is your secret?"_

_Her face had dropped at that, only slightly, before picking it up so Steve wouldn't catch the change in her mood. "He's too good for me," she said back to him, almost making him drop his plate. "I don't deserve him. Not in this life or in any other. Plus, he's got eyes on other women." The waiter gave a once-over to Steve, who was staring at Natasha with the eyes of a lost puppy, and snorted to himself. Well, that was bullshit if he'd ever seen it. Of course these two would be together. They'd realize it eventually. _

"_Sometimes, fate has a weird way of taking its course," he said to her quietly. "Yours will come in due time, I promise." With that, he clapped his hand and jovially turned to Steve, switching to English..._

"Um, Nat, I know you said to remind you about the meats in between bubble tea and bargaining, but...what exactly is bubble tea?" Steve's voice jolted her out of her thoughts, and she shook her head slightly.

"Bubble tea? Pretty much the best invention in the world."

* * *

**Canal Street**

"I don't understand," Natasha said to the vendor, frowning in frustration. "You said five minutes ago that this was worth five bucks. Now you're trying to sell it to me for ten?"

"That was different item," the vendor huffed, giving her a scornful look. "Very subtle difference. Not that you would be able to tell," she muttered, going back inside to bring out a different bag. Natasha had half a mind to shoot her, but decided a perfectly good bullet wasn't worth wasting over a haggle. Besides, she had a bet with Steve to win. "How about this one?" the vendor asked, showing her a sack with a familiar red, white and blue shield on it. "Will keep you safe from enemies."

_She already had the real thing,_ she mused, but shrugged. Might as well get to carry around Steve, even if he wasn't with her. "How much?"

"Ten dollars."

"Eight."

"Eight fifty."

"Eight or I walk." Natasha put her famous glare into use, leveling it down a bit so she wouldn't lose the deal. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Eight." the vendor said grudgingly. Smiling sweetly, Natasha paid her the eight dollars.

"Good doing business with you." There was a grunt in the affirmative, and she turned away to find Steve. Just where had that man gone?

"Why, thank you, ma'am," she heard Steve say, and turned to find the man himself, smiling gently at a lady who was just about to faint. "It's been a pleasure talking to you today." He emerged from the stall next to her, Natasha hurriedly stowing her purchase into her bag. No need to rub salt in the wound at what was _clearly _a loss. "So, Nat," he said easily. "How much you get something for?"

"Eight." she said tersely. "The vendor wasn't exactly friendly."

"Really?" he asked, surprise coloring his voice. "The one I met was really friendly. Got something for three dollars, actually." She just gave him a withering glare, her scowl deepening as he chuckled. "Really, Nat. All you have to do is be nice to the locals and they'll be nice to you in return. Is that so hard?"

"_How much for these earrings?" he'd asked, gingerly picking up a pair from the stand. The vendor bustled over to him, all business. _

"_For those? Eight dollars." she informed him. Steve examined the earrings. They were reminiscent of Natasha's Widow hourglasses, both a deep ruby red with a shine that seemed to emanate somewhere from deep inside. _

"_Eight dollars," he murmured quietly, but loud enough that he knew the vendor would listen. "Damn, Nat's gonna hate that I got them for that much."_

"_Earrings for your girlfriend?" the vendor asked, suddenly taking a newfound interest in his situation. "Why, she must be pretty, for those earrings. Tell me," she demanded. "How long have you two been together?" _

_Steve winced internally at having to lie, but forced himself to smile winningly. It seemed to work, for the vendor swooned slightly. "Two years coming up this weekend."_

"_Isn't that wonderful!" she clucked, taking the earrings from him and putting them into a navy velvet box. "Tell you what," she offered, leaning in. "You seem like good man. I sell these to you for four dollars, okay?" _

"_That sounds delightful, ma'am," Steve responded honestly. He dug for his wallet, fumbling for the right amount of money. One by one, he pulled out the ones, handing them to her as he went. "That's one...two...three...I know I have another dollar in here somewhere..."_

"_That's fine." She waved him off. At his concerned look, she clucked in a reassuring tone. "Really! Three dollars is fine, young man."_

"_Are you sure? I mean, I can pay you in quarters if you'd like-"_

"_Quarters are too much trouble," she insisted. "Go. Three dollars and give them to your girlfriend." There was a wink. "Make sure you do it romantically."_

"_Why thank you, ma'am," he said gratefully. "It's been a pleasure talking to you today."_

* * *

**Central Park**

"So," Steve said with his mouth full of pretzel later that night as they strolled through the park. The sun had begun to set, streetlamps flickering on, apartments beginning to light up. "How was your initiation into Central Park food?"

"I gotta say," Natasha answered, swallowing down a large bite of her hot dog. "Almost on par with that Chinese food we had for lunch." She took another bite, the relish dripping onto her chin. "I say almost because your face with that language barrier was hilarious."

"Not as much as your chin filled with relish," he teased, handing her a napkin. "I'd wipe it off before I get tempted to take a picture." She hurriedly wiped the condiment off of her chin.

"You wouldn't." Steve wiggled his phone in response, laughing as her jaw dropped open. The photo of her with relish on her chin shone in the increasing darkness, and she made a grab at it.

"Give it back, Rogers!" He darted away just in time and began to run, hanging on to his pretzel for dear life as Natasha gave chase. "THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" Knockoff super serum or not, he was still faster than her. As a result, he gained quite a considerable amount of distance, neither of them noticing that they'd run onto a deserted playground.

Steve knew he had to hide from the deadly assassin, who was currently about a hundred feet behind him, cursing loudly in Russian. He knew that there were people staring, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care. Suddenly, he spotted a tunnel and all but threw himself in, curling up into a ball so that any of his limbs wouldn't be spotted. Breathing heavily, he unlocked his phone, quickly sending the picture to Clint, warning him not say anything about it to Tony. No sooner had he sent it than he heard Natasha's voice, mildly out of breath but plenty angry.

"Steven. Grant. Rogers. You'd better not have posted that photo anywhere." He snorted. Firstly, he wasn't _that _mean, and secondly, how did one even post photos like that? Natasha's footsteps grew closer, and Steve twisted, attempting to get out of the tunnel.

There was only one problem: he couldn't.

"Um, Natasha?" he asked, not sure where she was. "Natasha!" At that, her head popped into the tunnel's entrance.

"Steve. Are you...stuck?" She was struggling not to laugh, he knew. And doing an awful job. "Don't tell me you're stuck in the tunnel."

He slumped in defeat. "Yeah. I'm stuck." Natasha's small snickers burst into a full-out laugh, she holding her stomach.

"We'll have to pull you out, then," she said, decidedly straight-faced.

"Yeah."

"Hm, I wonder who would pull you out...I mean, we _could _get Tony over here and have him get the suit to pull you out, but that would only let the entire team know that the famous Captain America has managed to get stuck in a playground tunnel..." She put a finger to her chin, pretending to think. "And then we'll have to explain to him _how _you got stuck in that tunnel..."

"Couldn't you just get me out, Nat?"

"Oh, so you're asking _moi,_" Natasha replied dramatically, crossing her arms. "But how could I help you, especially when you possess such a damning piece of evidence. Surely it would ruin my entire reputation!"

"Fine," he conceded. "I'll get rid of the photo. Just pull me out, will you?"

"Hand me your phone." The photo was quickly deleted, and Natasha took the time to take a selfie, posting it as his lock screen. "Now give me your hand." Without warning, she yanked, and Steve came out in a tangle of limbs, accompanied by a loud screech.

"I never want to do that again," he said, shaking the remnants of his pretzel off of him. "Remind me never to take any photos of your horrific face again."

"I'll have you know plenty of people love my face," she retorted, heading over to the swings. She dropped their bags next to the pole, a result of their day's travels, and hopped on, beginning to swing. "Just not when it's got relish on it."

He followed, hopping onto the swing next to her. "What about ketchup?" If they hadn't been on swings, Natasha decided, she would've punched him. "Mustard? Mayo? Nah, not mayo, actually-it's a disgusting thing." Steve tauntingly swung his feet, increasing his arc exponentially. "Bet I can make a loop before you do."

"Nah." Putting her own legs to work, she pumped until her arc was almost the length of Steve's. "I'm gonna whoop your ass, of course."

"Is that a challenge?"

"If I win, you have to go back to Canal and bargain for whatever I want," Natasha answered, too focused on getting the maximum swing. "And by anything, I mean _anything_."

"If I win, you have to kiss me." She stopped short, nearly falling off of the swing.

"What?"

"You win, I bargain. I win, we kiss." Steve shrugged. "Sounds about fair, doesn't it?"

"We start at the bottom," Natasha negotiated, dragging her feet along the ground. He did the same, and they glared at each other. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she debated losing on purpose, just to get the chance to kiss him. But at the forefront, the more competitive spirit, the one that _profoundly _wanted to kick Steve's ass, got the better of her. "On the count of three."

"One."

"Two."

"Three!" They kicked off, both pumping to their limits. Steve wouldn't be lying if he said he was trying his hardest, and was _still _even with Natasha. He glared at her, and she at him, both of them redoubling their efforts.

Suddenly, Steve let out a shout of victory as he swung over the high bar of the swing, completing a full circle before dragging his feet to the ground, effectively stopping him. "Full circle," he said triumphantly to Natasha, smirking at her. "How do you feel _now, _Romanoff?"

She'd slowly stopped swinging, her feet dragging into the ground, the loud scrape of the sand against her sneakers the only sound in the night. Silently she turned her head to look at him, her face expressionless.

"Nat, you know I was kidding about the kiss," he said a bit desperately, wanting her to say something, _anything_. "You honestly don't have to do it if you don't want to, I know that-"

He was cut off as she pulled his head to hers, their lips colliding. It was only when air became a necessity that they pulled apart, and even then the expression in her eyes mirrored a desire for more.

"Under his shield," she murmured. Steve's face scrunched up adorably in confusion, mind still spinning from the kiss.

"Wha?"

"That's what mine says," Natasha answered. "It reminds me of where I'll always be." The information suddenly comprehended itself in Steve's brain, and he hastened to pull out his own dog tag, the metal glinting in the moonlight.

"I've been Widowed," he said, catching her chin in his hands. The swings had stopped, now, except for the occasional movement when one of them would shift their weight. "You've stolen my heart from the start, Nat, and don't you forget it."

"AHA!" came a loud voice, and both of them jumped, startled, as Tony, Clint and Bucky leapt out from a bush. "I KNEW IT!"

"Seriously?" Natasha swore, attempting to compose herself. "Of all of the things they could've interrupted today, they interrupted THIS?" She whirled around to turn on the trio, fuming. "You three have the WORST timing!"

"Sorry, Nat, but we had to make sure!" Clint protested, then fell silent as she glared at him. "Plus, at least we didn't interrupt you before...?"

"You three have until one until I start running after you," she threatened, cracking her knuckles. They seemed to get the hint and ran, Tony's shrieks being especially loud. She turned back to Steve, who was facepalming dejectedly. "So..." she said, attempting to break the awkward silence. "What do we do now?"

"About us?" He scratched the back of his neck, a telltale blush working its way up its face, even in the middle of the dark. "Well. I mean-" A puzzled look was shot at Natasha, who was grinning shyly. "What _do _we do now?"

"Well, that kissing thing was kind of cool," she whispered, and he obeyed, tilting her chin up so that he could kiss her standing up.

"But about Clint, Tony and Bucky?" he asked, resting his forehead against hers once they broke apart. "We're going to go America all over their asses. Get ready, 'cause we're gonna have to do some running."

* * *

"Stasha not back yet?" Tony called to Clint the next morning, stumbling into the kitchen. The archer was already in the kitchen nursing a hangover, having done some heavy drinking the night before upon figuring out Steve and Natasha had finally gotten together. "Figures," she snorted when there was no reply. "Only they would stay out getting it on all night."

"Please, Stark, they're probably purposely avoiding you," Clint retorted, blindly groping for the fridge's handle, wrenching it open. "What the hell?!"

"What? What?" Tony asked, suddenly alert. He darted over to where Clint was, screaming at the sight of the fridge. "HOLY AMERICA!" He reared back, clutching his chest. "It's-it's full of-"

"What, actual food?" Bucky grumbled, blearily stumbling in. "God knows we haven't had anything decent to eat since Steve left a couple of days ago. Seeing Clint and Tony staring horrified into the fridge, he decided to take a look for himself. "Holy hell. We've been America'd."

There wasn't a stitch to eat in the fridge. No eggs, no butter, no random vegetable that Tony or Bruce had discovered at the farmer's market and had decided to bring home. No milk, no juice, not even Tony's emergency bottle of champagne.

There was nothing in there except for pie. Boxes and boxes of apple pie.

"SQUAWK!" A sudden rattling in the vents caused them all to jump, Bucky and Tony giving Clint curious looks, as if determining just what he was keeping in the vents this time.

"Wasn't me!" Clint exclaimed, looking terrified. "I'm just as confused as you are!" Slowly, Bucky removed a vent cover, all three men jumping back as a bald eagle streaked out, flying into the living room with a loud caw.

"_Tell _me that wasn't just a bald eagle in the vents," Bruce said to them, hurrying in. Glancing in the fridge, his expression changed to one of satisfaction. "Ooh. Apple pie." He turned back to the trio, who were still staring at the eagle, which had now decided to make a mess on the floor. "I am _so _not cleaning that up."

FSSSHHH.

Bucky sniffed the air, frowning. "I smell grass clippings. And hot dogs. And...goddammit, more apple pie." He turned to Tony and Bruce. "What the hell are you two cooking up in your lab?"

Bruce smirked. "That, sir, is the smell of _freedom._ Specifically synthesized for this very occasion."

CLONK. The two scientists ducked as Bucky was hit in the head with a football, the Winter Soldier going down and hitting the floor with a THUD.

"I have the odd feeling we're being targeted," Clint said slowly, horror beginning to make its way into his voice. "And I think I know who's after us."

"You don't mean-" Tony began.

"Oh, I do."

"_Sir, I believe there's an anomaly with the Iron Man suits," _JARVIS chimed in amid the squawks of the eagles._ "They seem to be filled with an unknown substance."_

"And just how did they get past your security, tell me, JARVIS, hm?" Tony muttered as he and Clint ran to the lab, Bruce electing to stay behind and make a cup of tea. "Did they happen to charm you into letting into them in, by chance?"

"_Why, you happen to know that I am incapable of being charmed," _JARVIS responded cynically. Was that a sneer Tony detected?

The duo skidded into the lab, Tony racing over to his suite of suits. "Please nothing be wrong," he muttered as he pulled up a suit. "_Please _nothing be wrong..." He opened up a suit, bracing himself for what was to come.

A barrage of baseballs spilled out of the suit while the lab speakers blared to life, a marching band blasting out the Star Spangled Banner. Tony screamed and leapt back, only to trip on a baseball and fall over, taking Clint down with him. They both landed on the hard floor with an 'Oof!' from Tony and a 'OW MY BACK!' from Clint.

"Jesus, Stark, what's this floor made out of? Concrete?"

* * *

Meanwhile, in the vents, a cross-legged Steve and Natasha examined their handiwork, from Bucky still lying on the ground to Bruce delightedly eating his apple pie. "At least someone's happy with all of that apple pie."

"I didn't expect Bruce to have a thing for apple pie," she mused, leaning over him to get a closer look. "Pumpkin, maybe. Pecan, or even peach. But totally not apple." Her ruby hourglass earrings shone in the little light provided, Steve having given them to her after the three Musketeers had run for their lives. "Now we know how to calm down the Hulk, I guess."

"_JARVIS! Turn it off!" _they heard Tony whine. _"I can't take it anymore! No more Star Spangled Banner!"_

"_I believe my circuits have been overridden, sir," _

"_JARVIS!"_

"I guess it's safe to say they've been Americanized," Steve said in satisfaction, closing the vent and turning to Natasha. "I don't know about you, but I want some apple pie."

* * *

**This was almost 10,000 words. Typed over the course of two days. Which is pretty much double of what I usually type...ish. So read and review it? Please? Best review gets a box of apple pie and Bruce's smell of freedom!**

**Hopefully I'll be back this weekend!**


	29. Letting Tony Blow Things Up (On Purpose)

**WEEKEND UPDATE WOOOOOOOOOO! I'm jazzed today. If you want to know why, go look up "Candy" by The Singles. That is all. **

**Small warning. I wanted to write some tension that's a little more than what usually happens around here. I don't know why. But it's there.**

**I updated in the middle of the week, which is weird, so I wasn't expecting much...Shoutout to little Jewel and hanzz for following! Best review goes to eternal stars 5...have some pie! And FREEDOM! xD**

* * *

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served..." A large pot of steaming, still-bubbling chili was plunked onto the table, the result of Steve's five hours of kitchen labor. The rest of the Avengers peered cautiously into it, Clint giving a sniff for extra emphasis. He gave Tony a grin.

"Smells potent, Stark," he said, giving the scientist a thumbs-up. "Perfect for the experiment." At Steve's alarmed look, he laughed. "No, Steve, we're not going to blow up the chili. We _promise_. I swear we learned from last time."

"Nah," Tony exclaimed, scooping himself a large bowl of the stuff. "This time, ladies and gents, we're going to blow up a fart!" Steve facepalmed. Just last week they'd tried to blow up still water; he was _still _mopping up in the most unexpected of places.

"We must commence with the tryst of the most potent gas emission!" Thor rumbled, holding up his spoon in celebration. With gusto, he, Clint and Tony all dug in, scooping up the chili with obscene sounds of approval. Steve rolled his eyes; really, five hours of labor had come to _this_?

Bruce slowly picked up his spoon and took a bite; he alone understood the delicate balance of spices that had gone into making the chili, not to mention the slow cooking process that had gone into it so that it wouldn't burn. "Mm. Is that cumin I taste?" He ate another spoonful. "Yup. Definitely cumin."

Natasha, on the other hand, was examining her chili like it was an enemy. She would sporadically spoon her chili, occasionally scrunching her face from side to side. She was five spoonfuls in before a conclusion came up, "There's not enough spice, Rogers."

"I do believe I put the right amount of spices in it," At first, Steve was still slightly wiped from the exertion the chili preparation had taken on him to play Natasha's game. "I did everything the recipe told me to." He gave her a worried look. "Something taste off?"

"I can't really tell," she drawled, slowly eating another spoonful. He quickly caught on and raised an eyebrow at her, the trio's noises fading to background noise. "Hm. I wonder what you need..."

"Oh, do tell," Steve snorted sarcastically back at her, scooping his own serving of chili and leaning against the kitchen counter. "Is it some grand and foreign spice I've never heard of because, heaven forbid, people of _such old age _be exposed to a variety of spices?"

"Well, I do have to admit, there's no denying the scent of Old Spice in the air, is there?" Natasha smirked back at him. At this point, both of them were glaring at each other, one eyebrow raised at the other. Everyone else had gone silent, Tony looking back and forth between them to see which one of them would go for the kill first.

"Well, there's no denying this isn't adorable," he commented in a stage whisper, Steve and Natasha seemingly ignoring him. "You have to love banter as a good preface for all of the sexual tension bubbling beneath the surface." Clint smacked him. "Ow!"

* * *

_PLLLBBBBT._

"Oh, God, I think that was the third time in five minutes," Tony groaned on the couch, holding his stomach. "What did you put in that stuff, Rogers?" Steve studiously refused to answer him, not wanting to be ridiculed for his chili once more. _Pfffft. _"Whew." Tony's nose scrunched up once more. "That one was a real stinker."

"You're telling me," Clint answered, pinching his nose shut. "I could smell that from over here. I think I'm afraid to breathe through my mouth now. Whatever you've got's good enough to knock out a rhinoceros."

_MEERRRRFFFLLLLTTTT._

Everyone scrambled to get away from Bruce, who had just let out the mother of all farts. The scientist didn't even look the slightest bit embarrassed, in fact, he simply turned the page of the magazine he was reading.

"We HAVE to use his!" Tony exclaimed. "Can we use your farts?" he asked Bruce, who eyed from the top of his magazine. "It's for science, Brucie! You can't deny us anything for science!"

"I'm not sure using Bruce's farts would be the wisest idea," Clint replied. "Unless you want to see the Hulk fart. While I have to admit that would be an interesting image, I don't want to be flatulating while running away from a giant green monster." His face tensed, and he moved his leg to an awkward position as he let out a large fart, the only evidence the sound of a whiff.

"Then we're using yours," Tony proclaimed confidently, jumping off of his seat and heading to the kitchen, beginning to scoop up large amounts of chili. "You ever blown up your own farts before, Barton?"

"What do you think I am, an idiot?" Clint asked. "Of course I have!" Steve facepalmed, already regretting the decision to having let Bruce choose that night's recipe. There were plenty of other choices he could've gone with, but _noooo_, Bruce had played the 'Other Guy' card, insisting that chili was in order.

On the other side of the room, Natasha let out a large unladylike belch, not even bothering to apologize when all five of the men looked at her in surprise. "What? Women can have gas too, y'know."

"You got a beer belly hidden somewhere, Romanoff?" Steve joked, resuming their earlier banter. She slowly lifted her head to glare back at him, the sarcasm dancing in her green eyes.

"Yeah, in between my third eye and twelfth toe," she snorted. "What's it to you? Fifty for the first look, then thirty for every additional ten seconds" She eyed him. "I'm warning you now, I don't come cheap."

"Certainly would be something to see," he answered mildly, stretching out onto the couch. Natasha was giving him a full-on glare now, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Are you asking to see it, Steven?"

* * *

"The test subject is strapped in and ready to go," Tony announced into his radio the next day. "I repeat, the test subject is strapped in and ready to go."

Clint was garbed in an all-white suit, complete with face mask and fire extinguisher, should he be accidentally lit on fire. Earlier, Bruce had taken the liberty to cut a large hole in the rear area, in which Tony was now standing with a lighter and video camera.

"Where's the chili?" he asked, just as Thor emerged from the kitchen with the chili they'd hoarded from the night before.

They set off in their endeavors, Thor feeding Clint spoonful after spoonful of chili, the archer happily swallowing it down while Tony crouched at Clint's butt level, ready to light the fart when need be. Bruce was lounging on the couch across the room, medical kit ready if necessary.

"Wait...I think I've got one..." An hour later, Clint's face contorted as he struggled to push out a stream of air for the fifth time. He stopped. "Nope. Never mind."

"Dammit, Barton!" Tony sighed, settling back onto his haunches, having been disappointed once more. He turned to Thor. "Think we should feed him more chili?"

"I regret to inform you that we have depleted our supply of chili," Thor informed him. "I had not seen any more chili in the fridge, either. We are truly out of luck. All we can do is sit back and hope that an emission occurs."

"I don't think I could eat any more chili, anyways," Clint groaned. "And the other half of the chili we didn't eat is in Tasha's possession. I think she's hoarding the rest of it. You know how she gets about Steve's chili." The other two nodded-the chili had been the first sign that the redhead had harbored more than just friendship towards the soldier.

Steve, on the other hand, had no idea. He still thought Clint was raiding the fridge in the middle of the night and eating it all.

Suddenly, Clint doubled up. "I'm gonna blow!" he exclaimed. Instantly, Tony was in his crouch once again, clicking his lighter and starting the video camera. Bruce actually perked up for once, putting down his magazine.

_PSSSSSHT!_

A large and long burst of air expelled itself from Clint's rear end and burst into flame, thanks to Tony's lighter. So large, in fact, that Tony himself had to jump back to get out of the way of the resulting flame.

_PSSSSHT._

There was another one. Tony was now constantly holding the lighter aloft, a manic grin forming on his face. The farts continued one after another, each just as long and loud as the first one. Clint's last fart was the grand finale-a fart loud enough to sound like a small explosion, small wisps of smoke actually being left behind.

"YES!" Clint cheered, doing a fist pump and exchanging high-fives with Thor. "I KNEW I'd be able to light a fart on fire again!" He called through the vents, "TASHA, YOU OWE ME TEN BUCKS!"

The various celebrations were too loud for them to notice that the small amounts of smoke Clint had emitted had set off a smoke detector, and the repercussions were only evident when the sprinklers came on, soaking them all. Yells of shock could be heard through the vents, but Tony noticed that one was conspicuously absent.

Pepper's.

As if he'd summoned her, Pepper stomped into the room, hell in high heels, her hair plastered to her face. "TONY. WHAT DID YOU DO." she demanded over the roar of the sprinklers, while Clint and Thor started up some sort of rain dance.

"I tried to light a fart on fire?" Tony asked weakly. "Come on," he said to her. "You've gotta admit it's one of the less dangerous things I've done! Plus, have you _heard _Legolas fart?" He pinched his nose. "I can smell the beans. They smell burnt."

* * *

"Mentos and coke," Bruce said at noon, shaking his head. "You're going to blow up Mentos and coke. Why does this already seem like the bad idea? Wait," he said, pretending to hold up a finger in inspiration. "Because it _is_,"

Tony had gone out to the supermarket, claiming he needed a food shopping trip to 'make him feel normal sometimes'. Pepper, glad he wasn't blowing things up for a change, had simply let him go. And now, here he was, calling Bruce to ask him which coke would be better for blowing up. "This one can't be dangerous!" the billionaire exclaimed. "Kids do it! How dangerous can it be?"

"It is if you blow up a lot of mentos and diet coke in a very confined space. Practically explodes." Right after the words had left his mouth, Bruce facepalmed. Oh why, oh why had he said that to Tony?

"What, like Natashalie and Capsicle?"

He hadn't seen _that _one coming.

"We're getting Mentos and Coke. Diet Coke," Tony prattled garrulously, phone still attached to his ear as he wandered the aisles of the supermarket. "Since it seems to work better. Thanks, Brucie!" he chirped, and hung up, leaving Bruce with an ugly sense of foreboding.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Great Mentos Blowup!" Clint crowed joyously, ringing a cowbell. "Today, in the left corner, we have the DIET COOOOOKE!" Said bottles of Coke were gestured to around the room, where several of them had magnets resting on their caps, Mentos inside and ready to drop. "And in the right corner, we have TONNNY STARRRK!" Tony, along with Clint and Thor, were hiding behind a large wall that they'd covered with tinfoil. It didn't hurt to have extra protection.

"Why thank you, Barton," Tony grinned, flexing his right arm. He'd summoned an arm of his suit and set it to magnetize, so one thrust of his arm and all of the magnets would fly to him, effectively dropping the Mentos into the coke and blowing them up. "It's a pleasure to be here."

"I dare to disagree," Natasha quipped, entering the room from the other end, stopping at the Coke bottles spread out like a minefield. "Stark, whatever the hell you're doing, quit it."

"Tony, quit it," Steve joined her, sounding just as exasperated. "We still haven't recovered from yours and Barton's little fart incident this morning. Half of my furniture's still soaked. The rest of it's very wet." He glared. "Because obviously, there's a difference."

"Whoa, quit the rant while you're ahead, old man," Natasha quipped, turning around to face him. "I obviously had this under control before you showed up." The two of them were so close they could've been pressed together, she glaring up into his face.

"I didn't see Stark about to give up anything," Steve retorted, hands on his hips. "And since when you were the master of control?" She glanced down, letting out a dry chuckle.

"I don't see you having the best control, either, Rogers," she commented, arching an eyebrow at him. Then, as if to prove her point, she leaned in, almost as if she was about to kiss him. "I'm just wondering when you're going to do something about it."

Steve closed a little more of what space was left, causing Natasha to stumble back a bit-right into the center of the Coke and Mentos minefield. They were still inappropriately close, and she could feel his breath on her face. "What makes you think it's for you?"

The tension was so thick neither of them noticed that Tony had silently put his arm out, summoning the magnets to him. The Mentos dropped into their bottles, beginning to sizzle and creating a silent countdown.

BOOM!

Steve and Natasha flinched, jumping apart as they were both covered in Coke. Natasha's mouth had dropped open as the sticky brown liquid dripped from the ends of her (now dark) red hair. "Dammit, Stark!" she exclaimed. "This is gonna be _hell _to dry!"

"I am so glad we put up that wall," Clint muttered. "That. Was. Awesome!" He turned to Tony. "Do we have any more? Can we do that again? We're putting in more Mentos this time if we can. And maybe we should get the fruit ones to see if they make any difference!"

But Tony was too busy observing the scene in front of him. "Uh, guys, unless we want to die painfully, I'd suggest we'd turn around," he croaked, sounding very un-Tony-like. "Normally I'd be all for a wet T-shirt contest, but since this is Natashalie we're talking about, I'll refrain this one time." He and Clint turned around, Thor having turned around when the Coke had exploded in fear of the impact.

Without even thinking, Steve pulled off his oversized T-shirt, as soaked as it was, and handed it obligingly to the spy. It was still wet, don't get her wrong, Natasha thought, but it was as loose as hell and prevented her from getting any stares on her way back to her room. But unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on which way you looked at it,) this left the poor super soldier shirtless. She allowed her eyes to rake over him just once, taking her time and drinking in the sight. After all, it wasn't one she got very often.

"I thought you were above these sort of childish antics, but _no_, nothing's below you, Tony, is it?" Pepper demanded, stomping into the room and causing Natasha to reluctantly tear her gaze from Steve. "You just HAD to go and blow up twenty bottles of Coke all over the living room! Did you even think about how much damage you did to the furniture? Not to mention all of the electronics we're going to have to replace? That couch isn't leather for nothing, you know..."

* * *

"Okay, now for today's final explosion," Tony muttered to himself, as he stealthily carried a watermelon into a still Coke-covered living room. "Who knows, we might even be able to eat this one."

"Okay, that's the fiftieth watermelon," Clint panted, nearly dropping the one he was holding onto his foot. "God, I can't believe we had to carry those up from the fortieth floor. I think I've done enough cardio for a week."

"Well, we couldn't exactly vodka-spike them up here," Tony protested. "Natashalie's vodka is locked up down there. Of course, she gonna be pissed that she's now short the most of it, but I figure we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Okay, I've got the semi-illegal explosives," Bruce announced, walking into the living room with a giant crate in his arms. "And I've injected myself with a stabilizer. I shouldn't be scared of the explosions, but you never know." He set the crate on the ground, working it open with a crowbar. "You guys spiked the watermelons?"

"Yup." Clint replied, picking a stick of dynamite from the box and jamming it into a watermelon. "We've just got to set them around the room, stick dynamite into them, and BOOM. Tony's got the detonator behind the wall."

"Awesome," Bruce said, jamming in some more explosives and beginning to move the watermelons around the room. "I'm telling you, this is the only one I might actually be excited about."

"I think we're ready!" Tony announced, putting in one last stick of dynamite. "Let us prepare to release the Kraken!" The three of them huddled behind the wall, Tony picking up the remote detonator.

"Oh, no, Stark, you are NOT blowing up those watermelons," Steve exclaimed, hurrying in just as Tony was about to push the button. "Tell me you're not about to blow up those watermelons. The world's seen enough of you trying to blow up things for a lifetime."

"They're vodka-spiked watermelons, actually." Tony corrected smugly. "And I'd like to see you try and stop me, Rogers."

"Tony, I'm still cleaning up from the Mentos and Coke incident this afternoon. Plus the farting from this morning. There's water damage like you wouldn't believe. I'm finding water in places there shouldn't _be _water."

"Natashalie wasn't complaining when she saw you cleaning up," Tony snickered, as Steve turned a bright red. Clint smacked him over the head. "What? It deserved saying! Because she certainly hasn't been..." he muttered to himself.

"You used my best vodka, Stark," Natasha's voice echoed from behind Steve as she threateningly stepped into the room. "Give me five reasons as to why I shouldn't kill you right here and now."

Tony held up the detonator with a look of glee. "Because I'm about to blow up the watermelons," he announced. "In five, four, three..."

Without thinking, Steve bodily picked up Natasha and ran across the room, ignoring her shout of protest and ducking behind the barrier just as Tony said "...one." and pushed the button.

Vodka-spiked watermelon splattered everywhere, mingling with the drying Coke already on the walls. The whole thing looked short of a murder scene in a horror movie, with watermelon everywhere, the rinds occasionally sliding down the wall. They all stared in silence, wondering who would explain this one.

Natasha broke the silence first, twisting out of Steve's grip. "I could've taken care of myself, Rogers!"

Both of them straightened up, once again oblivious to the audience they had in Bruce, Clint and Tony. "Think you would've made it, Romanoff?" Steve challenged.

"Damn right I would have!" she insisted. "I don't need anyone, much less you, to pick me up and throw me behind a barrier like it's the right thing to do!"

"Don't tell me this is about you and attempting to be alone, Natasha, because you know damn well as I do that-"

"Friends!" Thor's booming voice, tinged with awe, entered the room. All five of them peered out to see the god munching on some watermelon that had stuck to the wall. "I say, you must try this new concoction that has sprouted onto the walls!"

* * *

"I'm so done with this," Clint exclaimed, pacing up and down the kitchen. "I'm so fucking done with this." It was characteristically early in the morning for the both of them, but the situation had needed mitigation so badly they were willing to make the sacrifice.

"Amen, brother," Tony agreed, munching on a waffle. "It's been what, five months since she started hoarding that chili. They need to get it together." Suddenly he perked up ,as if struck by an idea. "What if we blow it up?"

"_What_?"

"You heard me, Legolas! Blow it up! Make the tension go KABOOM! I'm pretty sure it's volatile enough to. And plus, I've been wanting to do it since they almost started going at it when we blew up the Coke. I'm literally about to shove them in a closet and shout, 'KISS YOU IDIOTS!' His waffle nearly went flying against the wall. "We need to do it, I'm telling you."

Clint looked like someone had put a lightbulb above his head and switched it on. For comic effect, JARVIS helpfully switched on the light that was above his head. "That's it! Why don't we shove them together?"

This time, it was Tony's turn to exclaim, "_What?" _Of every plan he'd ever concocted, none of them ever involved shoving people together...

"Shove them together!" Clint was now almost running back and forth. "Lock them in a room! Cause events that corner them somewhere that they end up blaming each other! I don't know! You're the genius," he said to Tony. "Surely you can think of something."

Tony was silent for a minute, then reeled out, "I need someone to act as a date, an empty room, and a lot of ties. Go." Clint said nothing, only ran out of the room with a newfound determination.

* * *

"Stevie, my boy!" Tony exclaimed. "I've got a date for you!" Almost immediately, Steve looked ready to turn tail and run, but was trapped by Tony's arm around his shoulders.

"Do you, now, Tony?" was asked weakly. He'd lost count of how many dates Tony had set him up on. At this point, it was just better to nod and do whatever the billionaire said so it wouldn't be used as a guilt trip later.

"Of course we do! And what a fine woman she is, too," he added, silently hoping that Coulson's protege, whatever her name was, would forgive him. But it was a tiny little ruse. No one would ever know. "Quite the charmer. Has a great sense of humor. Works in the espionage business. Best of all-" Tony straightened up. "-she's single."

Steve sighed. "See the next time I do anything for you, Stark," he muttered. "Where, when, and what's the dress code?" He'd learned the last one after showing up at a steakhouse in a suit. Needless to say, that date had _not _gone well.

"The Four Seasons on East 57th, tonight at 6:45, and you're going to need a full out suit and tie," Clint answered for the dumbfounded soldier, sweeping into the room with a charcoal gray suit. "Here's your suit, and did I mention that Tony's got a separate room for all of his ties now? You'll have to go in there and choose a tie."

"Fine, I...guess?" Steve said, taking the suit with a confused look on his face. "But only because it's at the Four Seasons. I've got it on a list of things that I missed." How anyone had the ability to afford that luxury still baffled him. Might as well experience it while he was young enough to.

"That's the spirit!" Tony exclaimed, slapping him on the back. "Now go, get changed. You've got two hours, and ties don't easily pick themselves." Steve gave him a weird look, and he only shrugged in response. It was true, wasn't it?

As soon as Steve left the room, still completely befuddled, Clint turned to the billionaire. "Part one complete. Time for part two. Shall I go get Bruce and Thor?"

* * *

"_Okay, here's the plan." _

Frowning, Natasha looked up at the vent on her floor. Clint normally didn't inhabit the vents in her living space out of pure fear. What was he doing there? Sighing, she pulled her gun and aimed it at the vent ceiling. "Barton, don't make me shoot the vents again. You know Stark gets pissed if I shoot the vents."

"The vents should be a very trivial concern to you right now, Natalia," Clint answered evilly, dropping out of the vent with an arrow notched, pointed right at her heart. "I'd be a little more concerned with your life if I were you." Natasha froze, her finger on the trigger.

"Clint?"

"You've come to die, Natalia," he continued, advancing towards her. She stumbled back, her free hand fumbling for a knife, something, anything that would give her some sort of advantage.

Because this was her worst nightmare come true: Clint had gone rogue.

Natasha backed up against the door, and she fumbled for the lock. She heard a _click _as the door unlocked, and ran for it. An arrow whizzed past her shoulder, embedding itself in the floor where her foot had just vacated.

"They want you alive, Natalia!" Clint yelled as she ran down the hallway. "There's no point in resisting!" Somewhere in the back of her mind there was a voice that told her that if Clint really _had _gone rogue, he would've shot to kill. But it was a really, really small voice that was immediately ignored.

"Bruce! Tony!" she cried, running down to the labs and pounding on the door. "Activate emergency protocols! Clint's gone rogue!" She could hear Clint's footsteps rapidly approaching, and pounded on the door more rapidly. "Bruce! Tony! I'm not joking!"

"Well of course you're not, Natasha," Tony answered eerily, and Natasha's breath caught in her chest as she realized: he'd called her _Natasha. _Not 'Natashalie' or some other nickname. _Natasha_.

Which means he'd gone rogue too. And most likely taken Bruce with him. _Shit_. "JARVIS, elevator!"

At least the AI was still on her side. She jumped into the elevator like it was her last act in humanity, slumping against the wall in exhaustion. "God, JARVIS, what the hell's happening?"

"_It seems Sirs Stark, Barton, Odinson and Banner have all gone rogue, Miss Romanoff. Sir Odinson is currently on your apartment level, waiting to ambush you. I highly recommend avoiding that area."_

"No shit," she muttered, putting her head in her hands. "Do we have safety areas for cases such as this? And where's Steve?" she asked, not allowing herself to think the worst. "Has he gone rogue too?"

"_There is a room located on the 26th floor, Miss Romanoff. Mr. Rogers is currently taking shelter there. Do you wish me to direct you?"_

"Please."

The door _dinged _open to reveal a hallway cloaked in cherry wood, a shaft of light spilling from one of the doors. Cautiously, Natasha approached it-JARVIS had said Steve wasn't rogue, but it didn't hurt to be chary.

Steve was putting the finishing touches on his tie in the mirror when the door was kicked open behind him, revealing Natasha with her gun aloft. He froze. "Tell me you haven't gone rogue." If the Black Widow had gone rogue, they were all done for, Hulk or not.

Much to his surprise, she sighed in relief and lowered her weapon. Neither of them noticed the subtle _click _of the door shutting and locking behind them, courtesy of JARVIS. "Oh, thank God." Her focus quickly shifted to the room around her, face crinkling in disgust. "This is a tie room," she mused, then glanced at Steve. "The hell are you doing here, Rogers?"

"Picking a tie," he replied shortly, his initial fears subsiding. "As much as I don't belong here, I think you here is decidedly worse." She decided not to mention that JARVIS had called this a safe room-spare herself the humiliation that she'd run from a battle instead of fighting it.

"Women are just as capable of tying ties as men," Natasha huffed, crossing her arms. "What are you trying to say?" She glared at his tie, which looked crumpled and wonky. It was how a tie was supposed to look _after _a date, not before. "Your tie tying skills are horrible. Why the hell are you even here, anyways?"

"I have a date," Steve retorted, touching his tie reverently in slight offense. Had he really been doing that badly? "Is that such a crime?"

"Wow," she drawled, walking up behind him. "The great Steve Rogers has _finally _secured a date. I think we'd better call the history books, this one's going to be one for the ages. Tell me," she snorted at him. "how'd you get her to agree? Blind date? Money? Stark's money? I bet she's from money. Stark set you up?"

"Is that _jealousy _I detect from the Black Widow?" he asked mockingly, turning around to face her. "The great Black Widow, rendered to a green-eyed monster-literally-upon hearing that I have a date."

"Please." Her reply was more a snarl than an actual reply, but what the hell. She leaned in and whispered, "The only thing I'm going to be jealous of is the waiter that has to wait on you both. He'll be laughing inwardly the whole time because of how stupid-ass your tie looks."

"You think you can tie this tie better, be my guest." Steve knew he was playing with fire. But wasn't that the whole reason he'd decided to play in the first place? For the opportunity to get the burn of a lifetime?

"Oh, trust me, there are _plenty _of things I'd rather use this tie for."

* * *

_THUD._

"You owe men ten bucks," Tony said triumphantly to Clint, who had his ear pressed up to the wall. "Told you it would work. Ties _always _lead to more...interesting times."

"You sound like you know that from experience-actually, I don't want to know," the archer muttered, reaching into his back pocket. "Excuse me if I'm a little doubtful of your schemes." A ten was slapped into Tony's hand. "God, I hope they stop flirting so heavily now that it's out of their system." He paused. "They better not act like that all the time."

Just then, Steve and Natasha emerged, she with mussed hair, a backwards shirt, and-was that a hickey? Steve looked decidedly worse for wear, although they couldn't tell if he was just that bad at tying ties or it'd been through an interesting situation.

"I think we'll have to cancel that date, Tony."

* * *

**So it looks like I'll FINALLY get to go back to school on Monday...we'll see xD So read and review? Pleeeaaase? Best one gets a vodka-spiked watermelon, Steve's chili, and a tie! Also, taking the time to push my other one-shot, "I Have To Do What Now?" Writing a sequel...when I have time. :) **

**See you guys next Saturday!**


	30. BONUS: Decisions

**So welcome to the little one-shot that was written so that I wouldn't do a two-week delay... I'm sorry I missed last week, there was a loooot of stuff to do, and I didn't have time to write a thing. So I hope y'all enjoy this one, it's a bit Romanogers and my own life mixed into one. If OOC, my bad.**

**Shoutout to renegade991, Fire tests Gold, madhattington, and ML143 for following!**

* * *

They sat across from each other at the rickety, rusted table, neither of them saying a word. Life went on as usual behind them, but sound ceased to pass through their inclusive little bubble. An unofficial staring contest had sprung up between the two of them, her fierce green eyes meeting his soft blue ones. Chips and sandwiches lay untouched at the table, back when they'd been under the simple pretense of a lunch date. Truthfully, none of the awkwardness was his fault. She only had herself to blame-she and her inability to love, really.

Where was she to start?

He'd been everything she'd ever dreamed of, from his rakish blond hair and witty banter, to an emotional vulnerability written in his eyes during just the right moments when life had taken on a surreal quality. Falling for him had been like jumping off of a cliff-her thoughts had gone every which way, spending restless nights dreaming of the perfect scenario in which the two of them ended up together, reliving those scenarios in her head, barely discerning the difference between dreams and reality. (Maybe she should've seen it then; being able to picture the exact moment when everything had fallen into place, but not anything else.) She'd been completely sure she'd been in love, refusing to believe that it was anything but. Their conversations had been seemingly bottomless with laughter and inside jokes, all the while hoping that maybe, just maybe he'd get the hint of the churning emotion turning her inside out. Her days of unrequited love had turned into weeks, then months. She'd ceased to keep track of time, her once meticulously marked calendar now neglected sadly on her bedroom wall.

Crazily (or maybe it'd been fate, she'd mused,), they'd both fallen together. She'd been surprised by it, but at the same time she hadn't been. It'd been the day everything had threatened to crash down on her. Everything that she'd bottled in to herself for the last six months-she'd counted the days. Every emotion, every conscious thought, all bottled up into a tempered glass bottle that was on the edge of bursting. Do or die. She almost hadn't said herself to keeping silent for the rest of her life. Painful, but absolutely necessary for the long run. She'd been telling herself 'Maybe it was for the best.' A stern voice had been echoing this sentiment in her head every other day, while she would outwardly blow a ruby strand of hair out of her face, as if the action would reassure herself that yes, she was doing the right thing.

He had been the one to make the leap first, at the last possible second, and she'd allowed herself that free fall into the unknown universe known as romance. Life no longer seemed so monotonous to her, the days overlapping like the scales on a fish. At one point, he'd had to leave her, and she'd dutifully counted the days on her wall calendar until he would once again be a constant presence in her life, certain that everything would be the same as where they'd left off.

Days passed. Weeks. He entered her life once again, but without with the vigor they'd had before the fall. If they'd been Oreos and milk before their separation, they resembled more orange juice and milk after: two components generally alike in their most basic form, but honestly didn't mix together. She'd felt her initial euphoria recede speedily, replaced by the stark disappointment of reality. The realization had happened in small increments. A constant insistence on accompanying her everywhere. Being overly optimistic about any matter. And oh, insisting on paying for everything! She'd felt trapped, powerless. Not wanting to break his fragile heart but needing to abandon it ruthlessly at the same time. It was truly the in-between of two of the cruelest actions she could imagine-staying would surely crush her like graham crackers in a key lime pie crust, but leaving would absolutely shatter him, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

She'd slowly begun to draw herself back in, away from his wide open arms into a shell of her former being. Away from all the innocence and youth he'd represented, towards a future that was so much more closed, and twice as concrete; like a building that had been repaired after an earthquake, all cautions taken to prevent its structure from crumbling once again. She'd become something more cynical, with a deadly quiet that was always watching. In the most general of circumstances, perhaps she'd considered it as some sort of maturity passage, like all of those coming-of-age novels.

No one knew who she'd decided to become. She hadn't told a soul-who exactly would have understood? Explaining emotions to anyone had always been a point of fear for her-the ghost of rejection or laughter always hovered. No could have possibly felt the same way, she mused. The ordeal felt like she was tearing herself apart in the most melancholy way, separating herself from everything that had been the past year-everything that had been him. Painstaking, really, but with worthwhile rewards. Like trying to take apart two-ply toilet paper. There was always double the intended amount of toilet paper.

Her dreams, her envisioned situations, the constant banter, the goodness that had made up what they had been; she peeled herself away from it all, carrying over from her previous life only the necessities. The rest was locked up in a mental steel box of emotions that was never to be seen again. Not by her or anyone else. She was new now, completely different from the ghost she'd once been. No gushy emotion to be seen, no one to be let in; and certainly no one to fall for. She would make sure of that. From now on, it was all about her, self-centeredness be damned.

Being as oblivious as he was, he'd never noticed her withdrawal, the gradual transformation that had had rendered her to be the exact opposite of what he'd wanted. Until one day he'd caught her sneaking out on her daily lunch break, desperate for a breath of fresh air before her freedom was cruelly yanked back from her grasp like candy from a baby. Trapped in a corner, she'd agreed to a lunch date, and now here they were, with buses honking and cars rushing behind them, the impassive skyscrapers seemingly presiding over their conversation as if the world depended on it. All the sounds of the city she'd loved in a nutshell, and was grateful for-they broke the silence they were both drowning in.

She could see him trying to search for the truth in her eyes, their azure attempting to penetrate the carefully constructed emerald layers of hers. She inwardly sighed to herself. It was like everything he strived for was right out of a sentimental movie. She didn't do that. What were tears? Silly emotions? 'Sentimental' had been shut away like a life prisoner, along with any sense of empathy she'd had, replaced by biting sarcasm and wit. An impenetrable armor that she projected to everyone, including him. It was imperative he perceive her coldness. Maybe he'd realize they weren't meant to be...As she met his eyes, she mentally shook her head. Nope. Didn't seem like it was going to happen anytime soon.

Around them, trains rumbled, people hurried, and the presence of the city became physical, filling her ears comfortingly. She couldn't have been more grateful for the sound, for it detracted from the otherwise awkward silence they had both brought to the table. She longed to be one of the multitudes of people that rushed past her. Anything that would get her away from the inevitable that had to be said. I can't do this anymore. There was only so long the problem could have been avoided. She couldn't just walk away-her conscious wouldn't let her do that.

But did she have to tell him? Did she really? No. She didn't. She could walk away from the problem, let it disappear like the soft wind that occasionally blew past them, taking some strands of her impossibly long red tresses with it. It would come back to haunt her-everything did, at some point-but not today. She had this option of running away, this sort of liberation, and seized on it with all of her strength like she was jumping onto a moving vehicle. However temporary of a solution it may have been, it solved the problem for the moment, and for that she felt an emptiness of the mind that wasn't totally unwelcome. Call her a coward. But she wasn't equipped to deal with these things, much less a disaster of such proportions. Better to wait for a day and gracefully deal with it rather than jump in, limbs flailing.

So she arched a tan eyebrow at him with a sideways sarcastic grin, finally breaking their contest, casually blowing another strand of hair out of her face. She reached for her lobster roll, needing to distract herself from her mental detox. "So. The higher-ups on my floor say you're dating Stephanie?" She was allowed to say it. It wasn't like they'd defined their relationship, anyways...

As he jumped into a spirited defense, mock indignation lighting up his blue eyes, she knew she'd made the right decision. Some other day, then...

* * *

**Let me know what you guys think! I can't give out prizes this week because I'm updating on the way to dinner, but I hope that doesn't stop anyone from reviewing! **


	31. Twitter

**So. Less words than usual, and a late update. I'm sorry, kill me if you'd like... **

**See if you can guess these names! If not, there's a key at the end. NO CHEATING. **

**Shoutout to storyteller4544, andromedablue and Lydia1124 for following!**

* * *

**redwhiteandcapsicle:** Anyone care to tell me why my Twitter handle got changed? Tony assured me my password was secure... (2:13 pm)

**ewcoffeeno: redwhiteandcapsicle** You've been hacked, Captain Rogers. (2:14 pm)

**redwhiteandcapsicle: ewcoffeeno** What? Isn't that supposed to be impossible? Tony said the Stark systems were unhackable. In his own words. Could HYDRA be at this? (2:16 pm)

**loveisforchildren: redwhiteandcapsicle** Like your new handle, Rogers? #sorrynotsorry (2:18 pm)

**redwhiteandcapsicle: loveisforchildren** Natasha. Why am I not surprised? (2:19 pm)

**redwhiteandcapsicle: loveisforchildren** I suppose Clint and Skye are also privy to...whatever it is that's going on. (2:20 pm)

**awcoffeeno: loveisforchildren :redwhiteandcapsicle** in my defense, Skye started it! She tried to make me thereallegolas! #notcoolman (2:21 pm)

**cloudformations: awcoffeeno** come on Barton you know you enjoyed it... (2:22 pm)

**ewcoffeeno: cloudformations** Agent Skye. Cleanup duty. Now. FitzSimmons has decided to blow up another cake. (2:24 pm)

* * *

**noonetellpepper:** cav, ur needed as swift as a coursing river. coulson's yap, not mine. #mysterious #as #the #darkside #of #THEMOOON (3:05 pm)

**ewcoffeeno: noonetellpepper** *What* did you just say? (3:06 pm)

**noonetellpepper: ewcoffeeno** uh I mean *agent may*, ur presence is required in director coulson's company as swift as a coursing river...#fortotallyinnocentpurposesimean (3:07 pm)

**RealSteveRogers:** May's running around the tower and Tony's screaming...I hope he didn't try to make another Mulan reference. I know what that means! (3:12 pm)

**tonyisnowdead: RealSteveRogers** I'll call the medics. You get Bruce. (3:13 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: tonyisnowdead** Roger that, Ms. Potts! Heh! Get it? *Roger* that? (3:14pm)

**RealSteveRogers: tonyisnowdead** ...Ms. Potts? (3:14 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: RealSteveRogers** I'm dead now, aren't I? (3:15 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: RealSteveRogers** Just saw Pepper running in your general direction with a load of paperwork and a knife. Start running. (3:15 pm)

* * *

**dontcallmeAC:** SKYE, STOP SHAKING THE TOWER! (4:06 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** That's what that was? I thought **yesiwashydragetoverit** and **justamerc** weregetting it on again... #whatelsedotheydo (4:07 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: awcoffeeno** dontcallmeAC Are you serious, Barton? Do yourealize how many times we heard you getting it on with *yourself*? (4:07 pm)

**awcoffeeno: yesiwashydragetoverit** You're just jealous because I was getting more actionthan you at the time. (4:08 pm)

**cloudformations: awcoffeeno: yesiwashydragetoverit :dontcallmeAC** WHOEVER ATETHE LAST OF THE DAMN ICE CREAM IS GONNA PAY #QUAKED (4:09 pm)

**justamerc: awcoffeeno :yesiwashydragetoverit :cloudformations :dontcallmeAC** Um so I think the ice cream was used for well intentioned purposes... (4:09 pm)

**dontcallmeAC: awcoffeeno :yesiwashydragetoverit: cloudformations: justamerc** I DON'T CARE WHO DID IT, JUST GET SOME MORE ICE CREAM ASAP (4:10 pm)

**justamerc: awcoffeeno :yesiwashydragetoverit :cloudformations :dontcallmeAC **Can't we just get the women to do it? #womensjob (4:10 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: cloudformations :loveisforchildren :ewcoffeeno :tonyisnowdead**We rendezvous at five. Bring your worst. #thehunter #isthehunted (4:12 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** Your hourly Avenger's update: Bobbi, Nat, Skye, May and Pepper have now managed to successfully trap Hunter. #badideatomentionthewomen (5:15 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** Natasha is now threatening to rip Hunter into tiny little pieces. May knows places where they'll never find the body. (5:16 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** Skye is threatening to quake him. I think that one scares him the most. #wouldscaremetoo (5:17 pm)

**cloudformations: awcoffeeno** Glad you think so, Barton. :) #noregrets (5:17 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** Do not be alarmed, New York, Hunter was just tossed out of a window. We've sent Tony to go catch him. #akatonylikenow #beforehedies (5:20 pm)

**noonetellpepper: awcoffeeno** Y DO U ALWAYS SPRING THESE ON ME LAST MIN BARTON #NOTPREPARED #NOTFUNNY #HEALMOSTDIED (5:21 pm)

**justamerc:** Remind me never to mess with the women again. (5:30 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: justamerc** We have...several times. #deaf #seriously (5:32 pm)

* * *

**loveisforchildren:** Barton, get your bunny out of the vents or I will shoot them. (9:33 am)

**loveisforchildren:** Barton. Now. (9:33 am)

**loveisforchildren:** Barton, last warning or I'm testing my new Glocks on them. (9:33 am)

**awcoffeeno: loveisforchildren** NO NAT NO DON'T DO THAT TO NUTELLA WHYY I'LL GET HIM OUT I PROMISE (9:34 am)

**loveisforchildren:** Aaand as if things couldn't get any weirder, Steve's decided to devote himself to the study of Ancient Rome. (9:45 am)

**RealSteveRogers:** **loveisforchildren** We'd all do well to learn from history, Natasha. Especially Tony. (9:47 am)

**loveisforchildren: RealSteveRogers** Then you could've *at least* studied American History, Steve. At the VERY LEAST. (9:48 am)

**RealSteveRogers: loveisforchildren** I don't see you studying Russian history. (9:44 am)

**awcoffeeno: RealSteveRogers :loveisforchildren** THAT'S BECUZ SHES HOLDING NUTELLA HOSTAGE #CRUELANDUNUSUALPUNISHMENT (9:44 am)

**loveisforchildren: awcoffeeno :RealSteveRogers** THAT'S BECAUSE HE WAS IN MY BATHTUB, BARTON. BATH. TUB. (9:45 am)

**awcoffeeno: loveisforchildren** HE DIDN'T MEAN IT #INNOCENT (9:45 am)

**loveisforchildren: awcoffeeno** WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW, BARTON. IT'S A GODDAMN BUNNY. (9:46 am)

**RealSteveRogers: loveisforchildren :awcoffeeno** THAT IS ENOUGH, YOU TWO. TIME-OUT FLOOR, NOW. (9:48 am)

**tonyisnowdead: RealSteveRogers :loveisforchildren :awcoffeeno** You might want to use the second time-out floor. First one's occupied. (9:50 am)

* * *

**theBus:** Remember, everyone, it's Skye's turn to do the dishes tonight. NO ONE HELP HER. EVEN IF SHE GIVES YOU PUPPY EYES. -Hunter #notadvisable (7:59 pm)

**cloudformations: justamerc** IT WAS THAT ONE TIME (8:00 pm)

**justamerc: cloudformations** WHAT ABOUT THE TIME AFTER THAT (8:00 pm)

**cloudformations: justamerc** THERE WAS NO OTHER TIME (8:00 pm)

**thewheelsontheBusgoroundandround:** attention, everyone, I ONLY GAVE HUNTER PUPPY EYES THAT ONE TIME. -Skye (8:01pm)

**dontcallmeAC:** Skye... (8:01 pm)

**ewcoffeeno:** Skye. (8:02 pm)

**justamerc:** Skye, what the bloody hell? (8:02 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: justamerc** What, you don't know this song? The wheels on the bus go round and round! Round and round, round and round! (8:03 pm)

**cloudformations: yesiwashydragetoverit :justamerc** THE WHEELS ON THE BUS GO ROUND AND ROUND... (8:04 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: cloudformations :justamerc** ALL THROUGH THE TOWN! (8:04 pm)

**justamerc: yesiwashydragetoverit :cloudformations** please tell me there isn't another bloody verse. (8:05 pm)

**cloudformations: justamerc yesiwashydragetoverit** well, now that you mentionit...THE WIPERS ON THE BUS GO (8:06 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: cloudformations: justamerc** SWISH SWISH SWISH! (8:06 pm)

**thewheelsontheBusgoroundandround:** Your daily Bus update: Bobbi and Skye are most likely drunk and are singing "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round." -Coulson (8:08 pm)

**thewheelsontheBusgoroundandround:** Help needed. #SOS (8:08 pm)

**dontcallmeAC: thewheelsontheBusgoroundandround** Someone. Anyone. Please. (8:08 pm)

**werefitzsimmons: dontcallmeAC :thewheelsontheBusgoroundandround** Except the Hulk. Anyone but the Hulk. (8:09 pm)

**ewcoffeeno: werefitzsimmons :dontcallmeAC: thewheelsontheBusgoroundandround** Problem solved. I'll get Skye to change the handle in the morning. #theyrequietforareason (8:11 pm)

* * *

**notajollygreengiant:** The cloning of stem cells is a little-debated issue. Please help bring it to light. RT if you'd like to sign the petition. (2:58 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: notajollygreengiant** Thank you, Bruce. As someone in constant danger of cell theft, I fully support this petition. (3:00 pm)

**noonetellpepper: RealSteveRogers :notajollygreengiant** whod want ur cells anyways, Capsicle? theyre all frozen and...deteriorated #coldcells #ineffective #capsicell (3:00 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: noonetellpepper RealSteveRogers notajollygreengiant** HYDRA,Stark. HYDRA. Or the Red Room. Just ask Natasha. (3:01 pm)

**noonetellpepper: yesiwashydragetoverit :RealSteveRogers :notajollygreengiant** WATNATASHALIE WUT R U NOT TELLING ME loveisforchildren #whut #gasp #surprise (3:01 pm)

**loveisforchildren: noonetellpepper :yesiwashydragetoverit :RealSteveRogers**

**:notajollygreengiant** I'm secretly a double agent for the Red Room, Stark. (3:00 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: loveisforchildren** Natasha, I trusted you! (3:01 pm)

**loveisforchildren: RealSteveRogers** Steve, I'm kidding. I have a less modified version of the serum inside of me. (3:02 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: loveisforchildren** ...oh. Sorry. (3:03 pm)

* * *

**justamerc:** it's midniGht and tHere's no DAmn ice crEAm inside of The fridge aGain...DAMN YOU SKYE (12:00 am)

**justamerc:** AND DAMN YOU BOBBI FOR ENCOURAGING HER (12:00 am)

**justamerc:** THATS RIGHT I SAW YOU TWO HAVING THAT ICE CREAM EATING CONTEST (12:00 am)

**justamerc:** AND SKYE HAD THE DAMN ROCKY ROAD (12:00 am)

**justamerc:** AND MY NAME WAS ON THAT CARTON AND YOU KNOW IT (12:01 am)

**justamerc:** AND ANOTHER THING (12:01 am)

**justamerc:** THERE ARE REASONS WE PUT OUR NAMES ON CARTONS (12:01 am)

**justamerc:** ITS TO DISTINGUISH BETWEEN WHO GETS WHAT (12:02 am)

**justamerc**: wOW im accurATewhen im dRUnk twEeting (12:02 am)

**yesiwashydragetoverit:** I suppose it makes up for your tactlessness when you're sober. Now, GET BACK TO BED. (12:04 am)

* * *

**IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA:** When I find out who this was, I'm going to kill them slowly and

painfully. (10:16 am)

**dontcallmeAC: IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA** Skye's hungover, Agent Romanoff. She and Agent Morse had an...interesting competition last night aboard the Bus. (10:16 am)

**noonetellpepper: IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA** damn i wish i could take credit 4 dis #awesome #accurate #bestjokeever (10:19 am)

**noontellpepper: IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA** but u know its tru! #romanogers #stasha #captainwidow (10:19 am)

**manofasgard: IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA** WHY, LADY NATASHA, I DID NOT KNOW YOU HARBORED FEELINGS FOR OUR CAPTAIN! LET US PREPARE THE WEDDING AT ONCE! (10:20 am)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: manofasgard :IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA** ooh, ooh, do I get to be the maid of honor? (10:21 am)

**tonyisnowdead: yesiwashydragetoverit :manofasgard :IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA **No, it's obviously going to be me. (10:21 am)

**cloudformations: tonyisnowdead :yesiwashydragetoverit: manofasgard**

**:IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA** don't i get a say in this? (10:22 am)

**IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA: cloudformations :yesiwashydragetoverit** If I ever get married, Pepper will be maid of honor. Done. (10:23 am)

**IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA: manofasgard** And no, Thor, I don't like Steve. Not in that way. There's no need to start a wedding. (10:24 am)

**notajollygreengiant:** Has anyone seen Clint? I need him to test this hole in Tony's system... (10:25 am)

**awcoffeeno: notajollygreengiant** meant to close that sorry i was changing nat's twitter handle (10:25 am)

**awcoffeeno:** oh shit (10:26 am)

* * *

**yesiwashydragetoverit:** we're out of toilet paper again #seriously #whyme (3:30 pm)

**dontcallmeAC: yesiwashydragetoverit** That's impossible. I just sent FitzSimmons on a necessities run two days ago. (3:31 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: dontcallmeAC** I know what I see, Coulson. And what I see is thatWE'RE OUT. OF. TOILET. PAPER. #notblind #thereisnone (3:32 pm)

**cloudformations: yesiwashydragetoverit :dontcallmeAC** well that seems to be a...shitty problem. (3:33 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: cloudformations :dontcallmeAC** this is literally a shitty problem,Skye. I am stuck on the damn toilet WITHOUT. TOILET PAPER. (3:34 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit:** WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO REPLACE THE TOILET PAPER WITH DUCT TAPE?! (3:35 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit:** SOMEONE BETTER GET ME SOME DAMN TOILET PAPER OR THIS WHOLE BUS IS GETTING A SHOW (3:35 pm)

**theBus:** Will someone please get Agent Morse some toilet paper? NOW? -Coulson (3:37 pm)

**cloudformations:** theBus what's stopping you from doing it, AC? (3:37 pm)

**dontcallmeAC: cloudformations** I am a grown man. Who is not in any sort of personal relationship with Agent Morse. (3:38 pm)

**ewcoffeeno: cloudformations :dontcallmeAC** The Bus is in a sudden need for manual control. No can do. (3:39 pm)

**werefitzsimmons: cloudformations :dontcallmeAC :ewcoffeeno** There is a fascinating experiment that requires our attention...Our apologies, Agent Morse! (3:40 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: werefitzsimmons** See the next time I help you two. (3:40 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit:** you know hunter, now would be a really good time to bring me some toilet paper (3:41 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit:** especially since I have the sinking feeling that you were the one that replaced the damn toilet paper with duct tape... (3:41 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit:** ALRIGHT HUNTER THAT'S IT BRING ME THE DAMN TOILET PAPER BEFORE I HUNT YOU DOWN SANS PANTS (3:41 pm)

* * *

**awcoffeeno:** This is Bluebell! She's three, fast, and really needs a good home! (4:44 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** And this is Cass! Named him after Butch Cassidy...I think I was drunk at the time... (4:44 pm)

**awcoffeno:** So this is Marx...the Hulk accidentally found him once...ergo he really needs cuddles. Like, SERIOUSLY. Don't take him on if you're not willing to take responsibility. (4:45 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** Here's the bunny I named after Tony. He tends to groom himself a lot. Perfect if you don't want to spend money on cleaning. (4:45 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** Steve is really shy. He'll hide in his home a lot, but if you give him the chance, he's such a cuddler! (4:46 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: awcoffeeno:** I'm not sure I can appreciate being seen as 'cuddly', Clint... (4:47 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** And Brucie's strong! You'll have to feed him a bunch of carrots every single day or he'll get cranky and run around your house. I think Nat's already cornered him in the vents a couple of times. (4:48 pm)

**notajollygreengiant: awcoffeeno** As ironic as it is, Barton, I'm not fond of carrots. (4:49 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** Look! Thorie comes with his own hammer! He won't go anywhere without it! (4:50 pm)

**manofasgard: awcoffeeno** THIS BUNNY POSSESSES THE POWER WORTHY OF THOR'S HAMMER. HE SHALL BE MADE KING IMMEDIATELY. (4:51 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** And lastly, Nat's...wait, where'd she go? Ow! I think she just bit me! #notfair #rememberwhyinamedthisoneafternat (4:52 pm)

**loveisforchildren: awcoffeeno** Atta bunny. (4:54 pm)

* * *

**werefitzsimmons:** **theBus** Do not be alarmed by smoke emitting from lab area. Simmons is attempting to cook with another Bunsen burner. (6:03 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: werefitzsimmons :theBus** Didn't I tell you two to cook with a flamethrower instead? *So* much better than a Bunsen Burner. #duh (6:04 pm)

**werefitzsimmons: yesiwashydragetoverit** Yes, Bobbi, but the distribution of heat doesn't exactly match that of the Bunsen burner! You can't evenly roast a marshmallow with a flamethrower! (6:05 pm)

**noonetellpepper: werefitzsimmons :yesiwashydragetoverit** Of course you can. And if you can't, I'll invent one that can. (6:06 pm)

**dontcallmeAC: noonetellpepper :werefitzsimmons :yesiwashydragetoverit** NO ONE is cooking with any type of flame emissions. Simmons, turn off the Bunsen burner. (6:07 pm)

**werefitzsimmons: dontcallmeAC: yesiwashydragetoverit** But sir! It's for a probable scientific amelioration! (6:08 pm)

**dontcallmeAC: werefitzsimmons** PUT. IT. DOWN. (6:10 pm)

**justamerc:** someone remind me where we've put the fire extinguisher again? (6:20 pm)

**cloudformations: justamerc** depends on if you want to piss off may (6:20 pm)

**justamerc: cloudformations** don't feel like dying today, no. so where? (6:21 pm)

c**loudformations: justamerc** try in between the holding cell and storage (6:21 pm)

**werefitzsimmons: cloudformations** justamerc FIRE EXTINGUISHER! PLEASE! (6:22 pm)

**justamerc:** Your daily Bus update: FitzSimmons has set fire to the lab..again...which brings our total to 36 times #newfireextinguisher #needabunsenburnerban (6:28 pm)

**justamerc:** And Phil's decided to yell at them...again... (6:28 pm)

* * *

**loveisforchildren:** Skye. (1:14 am)

**loveisforchildren:** Skye. (1:14 am)

**loveisforchildren:** Skye, get up, or so help me, I will do this myself. (1:14 am)

**cloudformations: loveisforchildren** natasha, it's the middle of the night. how is this important? (1:15 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ: cloudformations** This is why. (1:15 am)

**cloudformations: loveisforchildren** YAAASSS (1:15 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** I LIKE CHEESE (1:16 am)

**loveisforchildren: HELLZYEAHARROWZ** That's all you could think of? (1:16 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** I AM WHOLLY AFRAID OF THE BLACK WIDOW (1:17 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** FURY IS A CHEETO PIRATE (1:17 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** TONY STARK IS A MOTHERFUCKING SQUIRREL (1:17 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** I HEART COULSON (1:17 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** I HEART SKYE (1:17 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** I MADE THE CAVALRY (1:17 am)

**awcoffeeno: loveisforchildren :cloudformations** WHAT THE HELL YOU TWO (1:18 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** GODDAMMIT (1:18 am)

**loveisforchildren: ewcoffeeno** I didn't know you had a thing for Coulson, Barton. (1:19 am)

**cloudformations: ewcoffeeno :loveisforchildren** aw, that's sweet of you, but...no. (1:20 am)

**awcoffeeno:** I will kill you two the next time we all meet. (1:21 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** COULD YOU QUIT CHANGING IT WHILE I'M TWEETING (1:21 am)

**loveisforchildren: HELLZYEAHARROWZ** Why would we? (1:22 am)

**cloudformations: loveisforchildren** yeah, this is fun (1:22 am)

**awcoffeeno:** AND HOW THE HELL DID I MAKE THE CAVALRY?! (1:23 am)

**ewcoffeeno: awcoffeeno** Barton, I made *you*. (1:24 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ: ewcoffeeno** yes, after lots and lots of coffee, isn't that right, may? (1:25 am)

**ewcoffeeno: awcoffeeno** i'm not even going to dignify that with a response and go back to bed. **cloudformations** Skye, you have ten seconds. (1:26 am)

**cloudformations: ewcoffeeno :awcoffeeno** but am! (1:26 am)

**ewcoffeeno: cloudformations :awcoffeeno** Five. (1:26 am)

**HELLZYEAHARROWZ:** WHO THE HELL IS A CHEETO PIRATE THIS IS GOING TO COST ME MY JOB (1:27 am)

* * *

**manofasgard:** TODAY IS A GLORIOUS DAY FOR TARTS OF POP! THE SUN IS SHINING, THE BIRDS ARE CHIRPING...THAT MAY BE FRIEND STARK SCREAMING... (9:16 am)

**manofasgard:** THIS IS MOST CONCERNING. I SHALL CHECK. (9:17 am)

**manofasgard:** IT APPEARS LADY POTTS HATH TRAPPED FRIEND STARK YET AGAIN IN A CORNER (9:17 am)

**manofasgard:** SHE SEEMS TO BE SCREAMING AT HIM TO THE BEST OF HER CAPABILITIES (9:18 am)

**manofasgard:** I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT IT IS FRIEND STARK HAS DONE WRONG. (9:19 am)

**tonyisnowdead: manofasgard** Sorry, didn't mean for you to witness stage one of Tony's murder, Thor. He build a giant toothpaste run on the thirty second floor. (9:20 am)

**manofasgard: tonyisnowdead** WHAT IS THIS CONTRAPTION! I SHALL INVESTIGATE IT! (9:21 am)

**tonyisnowdead: manofasgard** NO THOR DON'T (9:22 am)

**loveisforchildren:** I'd never thought I'd see Thor sliding through a hallway of toothpaste. (9:30 am)

**loveisforchildren:** Or bunnies hopping through it. (9:30 am)

**notajollygreengiant: loveisforchildren** Does this err on the side of animal cruelty? (9:31 am)

**loveisforchildren: notajollygreengiant** Given that Thor just crushed one of Clint's bunnies, and Clint just went after him with a war cry and slipped, yes. (9:32 am)

**loveisforchildren:** Now I think Steve's going to try and fish them both out (9:35 am)

**loveisforchildren:** Is that-oop-oop-yup, Steve's slipped (9:35 am)

**loveisforchildren: tonyisnowdead** Pepper, where's the nearest fire hose? (9:36 am)

**manofasgard:** I SHALL CONQUER THIS INFERNAL PASTE OF TOOTH (9:37 am)

**RealSteveRogers: manofasgard** Thor, all you managed to do is get up and slip again. (9:38 am)

**noonetellpepper: loveisforchildren** y couldnt u hve waited until after pepper wuz done chewing me out eh natashalie i wanted 2 slide in it (9:39 am)

**noonetellpepper:** hey maybe i can use shaving cream! (9:40 am)

**tonyisnowdead:** shit (9:41 am)

**loveisforchildren: tonyisnowdead** I'll get the first one. You get the other. (9:42 am)

* * *

**cloudformations:** anyone that doesn't want to end up with a bucketful of spoiled milk on their head don't walk into the kitchen anytime soon (11:45 am)

**cloudformations:** aka hunter ate all of the gelato again (11:45 am)

**cloudformations:** and if you don't like spiders don't walk into the laundry room (11:46 am)

**cloudformations:** and lastly don't use the last shower on the left if you don't like being bathed in vinegar (11:46 am)

**werefitzsimmons:** BLOODY FESFfhfsdfhsafhskfHSAHFSJKFHSDJKBJDF SPIDERS (11:48 am)

**werefitzsimmons: werefitzsimmons** SIMMONS WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SINGE YOUR SHIRT THIS ONE TIME YOU KNOW I HATE SPIDERS (11:49 am)

**justamerc: cloudformations** skye, there's a quart of gelato behind the canned pineapple (11:51 am)

**justamerc: cloudformations** WHICH I AM NOW GOING TO EAT BECAUSE THERE IS SPOILED MILK ON MY HEAD (11:51 am)

**dontcallmeAC:** I JUST WANTED A SHOWER IS THAT SO WRONG (11:57 am)

**dontcallmeAC:** NOW I SMELL LIKE SALT AND VINEGAR CHIPS (11:58 am)

**ewcoffeeno: cloudformations** Skye. Would you care to tell me why there is a large, steaming pile of...excrement in the copilot's seat? (12:04 pm)

**cloudformations:** shit i forgot to get rid of the shit (12:04 pm)

* * *

**foolofasgard:** WHO DARES CHANGE MY HANDLE?! (2:05 pm)

**noonetellpepper:** foolofasgard dammit sum1 keeps taking all the gd ideas (2:05 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: manofasgard** It's okay, Thor, we all know you're rightful Asgardian royalty...RIGHT?! (2:07 pm)

**awcoffeeno: RealSteveRogers :foolofasgard** hey man you know I wouldn't do that! (2:08 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: ewcoffeeno foolofasgard** Seriously, Clint? Can you really look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't do it? (2:09 pm)

**awcoffeeno: RealSteveRogers :foolofasgard** ...okay, no! But I didn't do it this time! I swear! (2:10 pm)

**loveisforchildren: awcoffeeno RealSteveRogers foolofasgard** Count me out. I heard Stark snoring through the vents last night. (2:11 pm)

**cloudformations:** HA! Who changed Thor's handle? #genius #wishtitdbeenme (2:15 pm)

**gloriouspurpose:** Enjoying your new handle, brother? (2:17 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: gloriouspurpose** ... (2:17 pm)

**awcoffeeno: RealSteveRogers :gloriouspurpose** ... (2:17 pm)

**loveisforchildren: awcoffeeno: RealSteveRogers: gloriouspurpose** ... (2:17 pm)

**notajollygreengiant: loveisforchildren :awcoffeeno :RealSteveRogers :gloriouspurpose**

... (2:17 pm)

**RealSteveRogers:** Okay, who let Loki on Twitter? And who gave him hacking skills? Does this violate his Earth parole...? (2:19 pm)

**gloriouspurpose: RealSteveRogers** I am offended you would actually think I require skills to crack this puny Earth system. (2:20 pm)

**dontcallmeAC: gloriouspurpose: RealSteveRogers** Unfortunately, this does *not* violate the parole terms... (2:24 pm)

**gloriouspurpose: dontcallmeAC :RealSteveRogers** Of course not. Such a contraption does not exist on Asgard. (2:25 pm)

**dontcallmeAC: gloriouspurpose :RealSteveRogers** And for all of the technological advances you Asgardians have... (2:26 pm)

* * *

**OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS:** SHIT NOW PEPPERS RLY GONNA FIND OUT (5:46 pm)

**awcoffeeno: OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS** what'd you do this time, stark? forget something? (5:46 pm)

**OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS: awcoffeeno** I CANT TELL U OTHERWISE PEPPER WLD FIND OUT (5:47 pm)

**loveisforchildren: OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS :awcoffeeno** Ten bucks says it was their anniversary. (5:48 pm)

**OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS: loveisforchildren: awcoffeeno** thts what i hav u two for rite? (5:48 pm)

**tonyisnowdead: OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS** Tony, I am giving you five minutes to get your ass up here and explain this. (5:49 pm)

**OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS: tonyisnowdead** i can explain pep i rly can! (5:49 pm)

**awcoffeeno:** bets are now open as to what it is tony did wrong! (5:50 pm)

**OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS: awcoffeeno** u think tht little of me barton thnx

**loveisforchildren: awcoffeeno** I still stand with the important relationship date. (5:51 pm)

**manofasgard: awcoffeeno** HATH FRIEND STARK COURTED ANOTHER WOMAN? (5:52 pm)

**notajollygreengiant: awcoffeno** With Tony, anything goes. (5:53 pm)

**RealSteveRogers: awcoffeeno** I refuse to bet on this. (5:54 pm)

**justamerc: awcoffeeno** stark better not have had that good bottle of champagne... (5:56 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: awcoffeeno** so...pepper's advertised in a single women's magazine... (5:57 pm)

**tonyisnowdead: yesiwashydragetoverit** Winner, winner, chicken dinner, Bobbi. Where's your extra set of batons? (5:59 pm)

* * *

**mofoingfury:** WHO LET THE AVENGERS ON TWITTER (11:32 am)

**mofoingfury:** HILL. COULSON. EXPLAIN. NOW. (11:32 am)

**dontcallmeAC: mofoingfury** To be fair, sir, Stark was the one that got a handle first... (11:33 am)

**mofoingfury:** Coulson. May. I thought you were better than this. (11:34 am)

**dontcallmeAC: mofoingfury** Agent May hasn't even left the cockpit, sir! (11:35 am)

**ewcoffeno: dontcallmeAC: mofoingfury** To be honest, sir, I don't see the need for it. Why should I leave the cockpit? (11:36 am)

**mofoingfury: dontcallmeAC :ewcoffeno** TO KEEP YOUR MOTHERFUCKING AGENTS IN A MOTHERFUCKING LINE! (11:37 am)

**mofoingfury:** YOUR AGENTS HAVE CAUSED HAVOC NATIONWIDE (11:37 am)

**mofoingfury:** AGENT SKYE HAS HACKED MOTHERFUCKING THE WHITE HOUSE (11:37 am)

**cloudformations: mofoingfury** he deserved it! he said ward was actually a good guy! (11:38 am)

**mofoingfury:** AGENTS FITZ AND SIMMONS HAVE INSPIRED AMATEUR SCIENTISTS EVERYWHERE TO COOK WITH MOTHERFUCKING BUNSEN BURNERS (11:38 am)

**werefitzsimmons: mofoingfury** We like to think of it as introducing them to the method of trial and error, sir. (11:39 am)

**mofoingfury:** LITTLE GIRLS ARE CHASING PEOPLE WITHOUT PANTS (11:40 am)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: mofoingfury** THAT ONE WAS ALL HUNTER. HE REFUSED TO GIVE ME THE DAMN TOILET PAPER. With all due respect. (11:41 am)

**mofoingfury: yesiwashydragetoverit** All respect taken, Agent Morse. Yours and Agent Skye's ice cream eating contest has gone viral. (11:42 am)

**mhill: mofoingfury** I'll get on that video, sir. (11:43 am)

**mofoingfury:** COLLEGE FRATERNITIES ARE DOING MOTHERFUCKING TOOTHPASTE RUNS (11:44 am)

**noontellpepper:** mofoingfury it seemd lke a gd idea at the time (11:44 am)

**manofasgard: mofoingfury** IT WAS A GOOD PLAN MAN OF RAGE (11:45 am)

**RealSteveRogers: manofasgard :mofoingfury** No, Thor. No, it wasn't. (11:46 am)

**mofoingfury:** AND WHY THE HELL AM I A CHEETO PIRATE?! (11:47 am)

**awcoffeno: mofoingfury** Okay, sir, I can explain that one...It was Natasha and Skye! (11:48 am)

**mofoingfury: awcoffeno** You expect me to believe you, Barton. (11:49 am)

**awcoffeno: mofoingfury** Yes! It *was* Nat and Skye! **loveisforchildren :****cloudformations** Back me up here, you two! (11:50 am)

**loveisforchildren: awcoffeno :mofoingfury :cloudformations** When would I have had time to change that? (11:51 am)

**cloudformations: loveisforchildren :awcoffeno :mofoingfury** gee, well, AC's had me on a lot of hacking stuff lately, i've just been beat... (11:52 am)

**awcoffeeno: cloudformations: loveisforchildren** thanks, you two. see the next time I back either of you up. (11:53 am)

**mofoingfury:** I WANT ALL OF YOU OFF OF TWITTER IN 24 HOURS. ORDERS. (11:55 am)

**RealSteveRogers: mofoingfury** I believe you're censoring my right to free speech, sir. (11:56 am)

**noonetellpepper: mofoingfury** noo! but my fans need more me! (11:56 am)

**awcoffeeno: mofoingfury** how am i supposed to adopt my bunnies?! (11:56 am)

**notajollygreengiant: mofoingfury** With all due respect, sir, I'd like to reserve mine to be a voice on political issues. (11:57 am)

**manofasgard: mofoingfury** THIS IS UNJUST, MAN OF RAGE. (11:58 am)

**loveisforchildren: mofoingfury** Sir, you realize we'd all just go back on under the radar... (11:58 am)

**dontcallmeAC: mofoingfury** This is actually a useful communication tool amongst team members, sir... (11:59 am)

**dontcallmeAC: dontcallmeAC** except for May. Except for May. (12:00 pm)

**ewcoffeno: mofoingfury** Please, sir. I *hate* interacting. (12:01 pm)

**werefitzsimmons: mofoingfury** But this is such a useful technological device! Plus, what if we're not able to communicate verbally one day? (12:02 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit: mofoingfury** What if I need toilet paper? (12:03 pm)

**justamerc: mofoingfury** What Bob said. I don't want to be chased by a buckass naked assassin for the third time! (12:04 pm)

**yesiwashydragetoverit:** **justamerc** ...third? Hunter, I only chased you once. (12:05 pm)

**loveisforchildren: yesiwashydragetoverit :justamerc** There were a couple of incidents involving my laundry while you guys were here... (12:05 pm)

**cloudformations: mofoingfury** BUT I NEED TWITTER MR DIRECTOR FURY SIR! NEED. IT. (12:06 pm)

**mofoingfury: cloudformations **I DO NOT CARE. 24 HOURS OR I WILL SEND HILL ON YOUR ASS. (12:07 pm)

**mhill:** I'll just be packing my bags then. (12:08 pm)

* * *

**So here's your key if you want it...**

**RealSteveRogers/redwhitenadcapsicle-Steve**

**loveisforchildren/IHEARTCAPTAINAMERICA-Natasha**

**manofasgard/foolofasgard-Thor**

**gloriouspurpose-Loki**

**cloudformations-Skye**

**dontcallmeAC-Coulson**

**awcoffeeno/HELLZYEAHARROWZ-Clint**

**notajollygreengiant-Bruce**

**ewcoffeeno-May**

**justamerc-Hunter**

**yesiwashydragetoverit-Bobbi**

**noonetellpepper/OHSHITPEPPERKNOWS-Tony**

**tonyisnowdead-Pepper**

**mofoingfury-Fury**

**mhill-Hill**

**werefitzsimmons-FitzSimmons**

**theBus/thewheelsontheBusgoroundandround-The Bus in general**

**Hope you didn't need that! Reviews? Please? It's been a rough week. Best one gets a toothpaste run! (I'll also be back to giving out rewards this week, I hope.) Hopefully I'll be back this weekend!**


	32. BONUS: Summoning

**MY FEELS WORKED THEIR WAY IN. I HAVE NO IDEA. And it's kind of a ship but not really a ship? I'm leaving it open-ended to you guys. **

**And I'm sorry for leaving you guys hanging for two weeks! (If it mattered at all, really.) And I'm kind of not touching the list because I'm running out of inspirations, so...there might be a lot of bonus chapters. **

**Shoutout to sudoku, Unknown Writer100, Polish, lisaj266, and Eragonshadowblade for following!**

**Best review to ErinKenobi2893, who totally can borrow this idea... :) HAVE A TOOTHPASTE RUN!**

* * *

**CLASSIFIED DOCUMENT**

**PROPER CLEARANCE LEVEL REQUIRED**

**ACCESS DENIED**

"Damn it," Skye muttered, casting yet another identity card aside. She'd been through half of the badges she'd swiped off of various personnel, and _none _of them were getting her access. How high up did someone need to be, anyways?

She hadn't expected her own Level 1 clearance to work-but when she'd been denied access using Coulson's password, _that _had raised some eyebrows. Because the only people higher up than he was were Maria Hill and Fury himself. And she wasn't a fool to try and steal _those _IDs.

"So _that's _where my ID went," Natasha quipped dryly as she strolled into the room. "What, my clearance level not high enough for you?" She cast a glance at the screen Skye was currently hacking into. "Apparently not."

"Don't feel _too _badly about it," Skye answered. "Coulson's didn't work either." She gestured to the pile of stolen badges next to her. "And I'm not a fool. If Maria Hill and Director Fury are the only ones who can know about it, I'm not sure I want to know."

"I thought I trained you better than this, young grasshopper," the assassin retorted, swiping up her card with two fingers. "When in doubt, always hack Stark Industries. Tony keeps everything on a private server somewhere. And he uses the same password for everything." She rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I know." Natasha headed towards the door, stopping when Skye didn't follow. "You coming?"

"Are you sure Tony's not going to find out?" Skye asked nervously, as she and Natasha huddled in a hideout room, the only lighting coming from the glow of the screen. "I don't want to die before I hack Apple, you know."

"Been there, done that." Natasha's tone was dismissive as her fingers flew across the keyboard, the clicking of the keys a comforting tone to the hacker. "Steve Jobs kept a surprising amount of...material on his servers." She let out a small grunt of triumph as the computer beeped in affirmation, signaling that she was in. "There."

"How did you-" Skye's tone was incredulous. "Never mind. " This was the _Black Widow _they were talking about. As Coulson had once put it, 'She's done all of the things you've never even heard about'. "Wonder what it is."

"It's...oh, _this_. Wonder why Fury had to put it under Level 10 clearance," Natasha snorted, turning the laptop so that it faced the young agent. _How To Summon the Avengers-a Field Diary _was written in bold print at the top. 'Pepper Potts' was inscribed just below it. "I remember this happening. Guess it's to prevent any of us from being summoned."

"You were _there_?" Skye spluttered, rendered temporarily speechless. "What _happened_?"

"Shall we read?"

* * *

_Under no circumstances, even the most dire of ones, is Tony Stark allowed to spend his spare time reading on summoning dead spirits. This will result in an overly gleeful Stark setting up a large pentagram and gathering items to summon various persons. _

"You've got that right," Skye snorted. "Let's hope HYDRA never believes in that mumbo jumbo shit."

_Let it be noted that at once, Tony attempted to summon the dead spirit of Abraham Lincoln upon Clint's proclamation that 'NOBODY FUCKING STAYS DEAD IN SHIELD! COME ON, FURY, WHERE'S ABRAHAM LINCOLN, I KNOW HE'S AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE'. _

_Various items were gathered: a large, black stovetop pipe hat (which for some reason was found in Steve's closet, much to the team's amusement), a copy of the Constitution (also found in Steve's room), a suit, some Lincoln Logs (Clint shamefully admitted to using them as practice arrows), and a large, straggly beard. There is some speculation that it came from the days of the Harry Potter prank. _

"And that is even _more _classified," Natasha scowled, remembering the one time she'd been made to believe she was married to Tony. It'd taken a lot of coffee to forget that one.

_A copy of the Emancipation Proclamation was also stolen from Steve's room, much to his embarrassment. Tony promptly sat down and began to read from it slowly and dramatically, only to have it swiped from his hands by an irate Clint, who proceeded to butcher it just as badly._

_He hadn't been thirty words in when the lights had begun to flicker, causing manly yelps to occur. _

_The next few descriptions are as real as it's going to get. Screw protocol. I'm narrating._

"Was that really Pepper?" Skye chortled. "Didn't think she'd be the type to resist authority. Especially SHIELD authority. Tony already does enough of that for the both of them."

_I swear it was Lincoln's ghost that showed up, and did he look pissed. Even more pissed than when Steve calls me 'Ms. Potts'-and that's really saying something. It wasn't even a white ghost. It was freaking. BLUE. I think Tony pissed himself. Or suddenly went back to pre-puberty age. I couldn't tell with the voice. _

"_WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"_

"_Who am I? WHO AM I?"_

_I don't know if Tony was going to get smote or not, because Steve jumped up at that moment and kissed ass like the world was ending. I don't even want to repeat what he said, because it was just so nauseating. And I kiss ass on a 24/7 basis. But yeah. Once Old Abe calmed down, Bruce decided to take the moment to have a science!fit, and ran off into the lab in excitement. _

_We got some answers out of the man. Clint held up a camera the whole time, muttering something about 'showing the motherfuckers at SHIELD'. Turns out he didn't take out McClellan because he was slow, it's because he was having an affair with Lincoln's wife. (Tony totally asked. I was about to smack him.) Our sixteenth president __really__ likes chicken. He got into an argument with Thor, of course, about whether chicken was better than bilgesnipe (which it really is), while Steve sat back the entire time with an open mouth. I mean, Lincoln is literally the embodiment of freedom. And I think Natasha decided she'd inspect her manicure. She's Russian, for Odin's sake. What's she supposed to do?_

"Yes, because I'm supposed to thank the Great Emancipator for...what, exactly?"

"He freed the slaves! Kinda."

_But, eventually, soon enough, we had to let him go. I think it's because Clint was slowly stealing the Lincoln Logs and stuffing them into his pocket. Steve looked ready to cry when the room lights came back on. If he'd met George Washington, he probably would have. _

_The whole room was silent. Until Clint pegged Natasha in the head with a Lincoln Log. _

"He went to the med wing," Natasha answered flippantly, shutting the laptop. "Let's go get snacks. We're going to be here awhile."

* * *

_If one is ever to summon Tony, there are really only two things that would be needed. Four suits, Mark nonwithstanding, and some alcohol. Preferably Natasha's, because he tends to show up faster when that stuff gets put out. As long as Natasha never finds out. Let it also be noted that whenever Tony reads up on...certain extracurricular activities, he is not to encourage Clint to entertain himself. _

"So _that's _where all of my good alcohol went," Natasha scowled. Both of them had returned with several boxes of cookies, as well as their choice of fluffy blankets. "I needed that stuff, you know, Pepper," she addressed the screen. "Missions tend to go like shit some days."

"You know," Skye remarked casually, "Hunter makes his own brew. Coulson had some and he didn't remember what he'd done in the last week." The spy raised an eyebrow at her, curiosity alight in her eyes. "I mean...if you ever wanted to stop by. The Bus, that is." Skye was thankful it was dark, or her mentor would've never let her hear the end of her blush.

"I would be glad to," Natasha answered simply. "How's after this reading sound?"

_Clint was wondering if the summonings worked on the living as well as the dead. He proclaimed that 'if this shit works, I'm totally summoning Megan Fox!' He was pretty oblivious to the glares Natasha and I were giving him. And her glares were pretty sharp. _

_The suits were put into a play, a bottle of vodka stolen from the stores by Clint, ("This is the only time I'm doing this, I swear.") and soon, the archer was chanting Tony's name in a meditation mantra. Bruce only refrained from joining simply because it sounded so inaccurate. _

_Unlike Lincoln's, Tony's spirit was red and gold. He seemed surprised to see it, although Clint spent a good ten minutes on his ass laughing. Tony tried to quaff the vodka, and Natasha threw a knife at him-nothing new-but it went right through him and almost hit Steve in the eye. _

_She didn't throw any more knives after that. _

"Okay, it was that one time," Natasha muttered under her breath as Skye cracked up, nearly choking on the chocolate chip cookie she was munching on. "And how was I supposed to know the damn spirit was transparent?" She smacked the cookie out of Skye's hand. Skye frowned, purposely munching on a Thin Mint exaggeratedly-she knew Natasha hated it when people ate them loudly.

_There was a discourse on the choice of suits-'Really? Marks 13, 17, 24 and 30? Seriously? Don't you people know how awful the colors clash together?'_

'_I could disassemble this whole thing right now, Stark,' Natasha had quipped in reply, hand twirling on another knife handle. 'And drink that vodka.' Steve could be heard sighing in the corner. It's his turn to deal with Natasha whenever she gets overly drunk, and it's March. If there's a holiday Nat hates, it's Saint Patrick's Day. Something about green and being lucky. _

"Guess you never had a leprechaun in your childhood," Skye muttered, returning to her Lemonades. "Or gold at the end of a rainbow." Then again, neither had she-they were marks of a well-passed childhood. Of which she'd had none.

"The Hulk is green," Natasha muttered through gritted teeth. "I was anything but lucky." Skye silently handed over a green tea shortbread cookie instead of offering her pity, which the spy gratefully took.

_Clint, somehow, had managed to get hold of a pad of paper and a pen. He and Tony are making a list of people they should try to summon when Tony gets back from his mission in Milan. 'Halle Berry.' 'No, Kate Upton.' 'Are you crazy? Nat would kill us both!' _

'_I would,' was Nat's drawl from the corner. 'And I'd make it look like an accident. The same goes for if you two should summon Scarlett Johansson. Then it'll really look like an accident.'_

"What would you need for that?"

"Apparently, Chris Evans, her kid, Rose, her husband Romain, Judy Garland, and a decent musical. _Wizard of Oz, _I think? I managed to stop Clint before he put out a kidnapping order for the people components. Didn't bother to tell him that no, Judy Garland wasn't alive."

_Shots were heard firing in the background, and Tony's spirit's face paled. 'Shit, I gotta go. They're attacking the place with missiles.' No one even bothered to say goodbye to him-Natasha had arrived with several shot glasses and was already reaching for the bottle. _

_It was some pretty good vodka._

* * *

"Are we out of Thin Mints?" Natasha wondered idly. "I think we're out of Thin Mints." She shifted the laptop in her lap, grabbing at the corners of blanket that had escaped her. "And I don't wanna leave the room."

"Nah, we're out of peanut butter patties," Skye replied, scanning the empty boxes of cookies around the room. "And I think we ate all of the rainbow ones earlier. We're down to the Thin Mints and the Lemonades. And maybe some cherry chocolate chip?"

"Well, we'll have to hit the gym after this," Natasha sighed in self-loathing, glancing down at her blanketed self. "I can already feel the five pounds kicking in." Skye just gave her a look that said 'Seriously?'.

"If _you _need to lose five pounds, then I'm on the scale of forty or more."

"Don't be silly, Skye" was snorted back at her almost instantly. "You're perfectly fine as is."

"Then shut the hell up, Nat,"

_For the first time, summoning an Avenger wasn't Tony or Clint's idea. _

_It was Steve's. _

_I don't really know what had gotten into him, but he was suddenly concerned about Thor's well-being. 'Team-mates have to look out for each other and all that'. It's totally not true. I know he has a thing for Sif. It's the only explanation for why he asks about her whenever Thor gets back from Asgard._

"I ship it." Skye and Natasha echoed simultaneously. "Wait, _you _ship it? Of course I ship it! Are you surprised that I know what ships are?"

_I hope they get together. Steve needs a woman in his life. Asking out Nat didn't go so well for him. _("He didn't come out of his room for a week.") _And since Hill is the only one left in SHIELD, his chances are looking pretty slim. _

_And unfortunately for Tony's wallet, this required Pop-Tarts. But who was he to say no to Captain America? Especially a Captain America who had the ability to withhold the best pancakes for breakfast._

"I haven't had these famous pancakes yet," Skye murmured. "Wonder if Steve can send me back with a doggy bag one day."

"I'm sure I can make him find the time," Natasha answered, still absorbed in reading the log. She seemed to realize what she'd just said, and quickly backtracked. "I mean, I'm sure he'd be perfectly willing to save some for you."

_Thor's favorite Pop-Tarts happen to include chocolate chip cookie dough, wild berry bloom, confetti cupcake, red velvet, and chocolatey strawberry. All of which are limited edition flavors. _("Damn. I want Pop-Tarts. Think Thor'll notice if I go out and steal some?") _Tony doesn't stand a chance in hell. _

_There was an interesting incident in which Tony was just hung off of the roof. Whether Steve was involved, I'm not allowed to say. But there were the five flavors of Pop-Tarts, all arranged in a pentagram. So I guess he either submitted or shit his pants enough that he bought all of the Pop-Tarts._

_But Tony __really__ drew the line at singing Frozen. Not really deterring Steve at the moment, but damn, who knew he was such a tenor? I swear this is the only thing that's made Natasha look up all day. 'So cut through the heart, cold and clear/Strike for love and strike for fear/See the beauty, sharp and sheer/Split the ice apart/And break the frozen heart'. And once Clint joined in, we were all doomed. _

_The next time there's karaoke night, these two are singing a duet, so God help me. _

_Tony seized the moment. 'GUYS, HE'S NOT COMING! LET IT GO!'_

_Apparently, being summoned is like having your soul 'not-so-painfully' ripped from you, according to Thor. (There was definitely some money being exchanged.) I think Steve and Clint were halfway to another round before he appeared, in a towel and all. Bruce actually yelled and lept back, covering his eyes. Tony was Tony. 'How much you liftin', Point Break? Where do I get muscles like that?' _("Less than I am," Natasha sighed, pinching a small roll of skin at her stomach. Skye slapped her hand away.) _'You are not worthy of such muscle, Friend Stark,' was the sassy reply. Clint's gone in for a high-five-oh, wait, he can't..._

_Cue Steve asking about Sif. 'She is doing quite well, Captain Rogers,' is the cheerful reply. 'In fact, she has constantly asked after your well being, as you have been doing.' I swear, that man blushed red enough to be cast as Bob the Tomato. (No, the Veggietales DVDs are Clint's. I swear.) 'Perhaps you may honor us with your presence on Asgard some day?' And then Steve decided to impersonate Clumsy Smurf and fall on his face. Looks like I'm the only one who can help him up, since everyone is laughing their asses off..._

* * *

"Coast is clear," Natasha whispered. "Go, Skye, go!"

Instantly, Skye dashed into the kitchen, speedily hacking the lock to the cabinet in which Thor sealed his Pop-Tarts. Boxes upon boxes were shoved into the supermarket basket she'd brought for the occasion, and once it was full, one run to Natasha and she was back with another empty one. Soon, the cabinet was empty, and both women were making a mad dash to their hideout, giggling all the way.

"_Yes_," Natasha grinned, pulling out a box of raspberry Pop-Tarts. "These things are life."

"Oh no," Skye warned, poking the spy in the shoulder. "I get _very _competitive about those."

"You do know I can kick your ass, right?"

"And I can quake yours into the next century?" They stared at each other for a moment, brown eyes boring into green. Wordlessly, Natasha lifted up her blanket, allowing Skye to snuggle in next to her. The latter's blanket was used as a double layer, furthering their incentive not to move anywhere.

At least, until they ran out of Pop-Tarts.

'_We need to find Barton' is the first thing out of Stark's mouth at the team meeting. Everyone's attended, sans Nat, but that's alright-she'd be no good in this one anyways. Clint's gone missing in Kurchatov; his check-in was supposed to be a week ago. 'Natashalie's going to kill us all if we don't find him alive.'_

Skye could feel Natasha burrowing in closer to her, although if she voiced anything, it would be heartily denied. So she said nothing, instead wrapping her arm around the spy so her head could snuggle into Skye's shoulder.

'_We could summon him.' is Steve's blunt reply. _

'_But what would we need?' Bruce. _

'_Arrows, definitely.' And just like that, Tony is off into planning mode. 'Coffee. Barton loves coffee. Family Guy. A hockey puck. Aaannd...' There's a wince. 'Natashalie. We're definitely going to need Natashalie.'_

'_I shall go make the coffee.' Even Thor's smart enough to catch on, and he's already halfway towards the kitchen. Steve's off to get the puck, being the only one who can get into Clint's quarters. Bruce heads to get Family Guy, and Tony sprints to get the arrows. _

_Dammit. I'm stuck having to get Tasha. _

"Well, I'm glad you find that such a chore." Natasha's laugh was low and smooth, the sound like an undercurrent in a harmonic. Skye found herself neglecting her beloved Pop-Tart, wanting to hear more. "Some days, having to wait on Tony hand and foot is much worse."

'_Do we have to sing this time?' is nervously asked. Natasha glares at Tony (so glad I'm not on the receiving end of this one) before beginning "Closer" by Joshua Radin. _

"Didn't know you could sing," Skye remarked casually, opening the foil to another pack of Pop-Tarts. She handed one to Natasha. "Alto or soprano?"

_I need to stop being around such musically talented people. How the hell is Nat a contralto? I can barely hit half of the notes she's hitting! At this rate, the Avengers could just stop being Avengers and form a barbershop group instead._

"That answer your question?"

'_What the fuck?' Clint's voice is immediate. Steve had to catch Nat so she didn't fall over with relief. 'Stark, what the hell are you doing? I'm up to my eyeballs undercover!'_

'_You missed your check-in, Clint,' Bruce's voice scolds him. 'We were all worried about you'. Choosing not to mention how Nat hadn't eaten a decent meal since the deadline had passed. He didn't need to be worried more than he already was. _

Skye glared at Natasha. "And yet you yell at me for not eating." The spy had the good grace to look slightly guilty, reaching for another Pop-Tart instead of commenting.

'_You're okay, though, right, Clint?' Steve. Always so concerned with everyone else. I remember last week when he spent three hours online looking for that brand of tea he knew Bruce liked just because they'd pulled it from the local grocery store. Granted, an hour of that was trying to avoid the dark side of the internet, but it's the thought that counts. _

'_Yeah, I'm fine. Fury's got me real deep in this shit. 'S why I couldn't check in.' And apparently the spirits can glare, because Nat's on the end of a receiving glare herself. 'Nat. For fuck's sake. EAT SOMETHING. Do I need to set Steve on you? Just because I'm out doesn't mean you can starve yourself. Remember what happened last time?'_

"Wha-" Skye began to question, but the stormy look on Natasha's face kept her from commenting. "Never mind."

The redhead was silent for a moment, pursing her lips before admitting, "I went bulimic for a couple of months." Avoiding looking at the young hacker, she continued, "I thought the red in my ledger could be purged by throwing it up. I was screwed over by a mission in Bogota and Clint caught me hurling in a SHIELD bathroom one day. Smacked me in the head, forced some chili into me, and kept watch for an entire week." Natasha sighed, her eyes emotionless. "Haven't gone to Bogota since."

Even though it was completely out of character for her, Skye gently closed the laptop, set it aside, and pulled her mentor in for a hug. "I thought I could get rid of my powers by cutting them out of my blood," she whispered shakily. "Ended up with a couple of handfuls of kidney stones. Simmons had to put me in a coma to get them out." She could feel Natasha pull out of the embrace, tracing the jagged lines on her arms, the silence saying everything words didn't.

"Why?"

The one word was whispered. Skye shook her head, unable to answer, pulling the Avenger back into the hug.

* * *

_If Steve ever gets killed, please don't try and bring him back. Really. Don't. I think Tony would get arrested for several different crimes. _

_Because to summon Steve would require the actual Declaration of Independence, the actual Constitution, his shield, apple pie, and an American flag. Three out of the five would be fine. Clint was actually halfway to DC before we'd realized where he'd gone. Nat beat the shit out of him. He's in the med wing with Bruce. _

_But if you __must__ summon Steve for some bizarre reason (and apparently Clint being an ass and Nat needing actual male company does count,), DO NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, allow Tony to go buy the flags. _

_I say this first because once it was addressed that would need a flag, Tony went and swiped every single American flag within a five-mile radius of Manhattan. How he managed not to get caught, I have no idea. I thought only Nat and Clint were capable of that stuff. _

"Yes, because flag-stealing is _such _a useful skill," Natasha deadpanned, rolling her eyes. She and Skye had taken another small break from the stress-fest that had been reading Clint's diary entry, venturing out to steal every blanket and pillow in the Tower, constructing a giant pillow fort out of the room they'd occupied. They sat with their shoulders leaning into each others', reading the image projected onto the wall opposite them. "Taught to every agent in the Red Room."

'_I got all of the flags,' Tony dumped all of the flags into the pile. 'Now what?'_

'_Well, don't burn them' I snorted absentmindedly, forgetting temporarily who I was talking to. Tony's face lit up like the tree at Rockefeller Center, and he ran for the kitchen. Thor chased after him, shouting 'TONY NO'. _

_Looks like Thor's tackled Tony. Nat's just lifting up an imaginary beer. 'Men.' I can already hear that rant going through her head. 'Jesus, Stark,' is groaned at him, once Thor's carried him back into the living room. 'If anyone should burn the flag, it's me. And even I respect Steve too much to do that.'_

'_And just for that, you're singing the Star Spangled Banner,' I scowl, pushing him forwards. Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Thor was in the corner twirling Moljnir. 'Oh say can you seeeee/by the dawn's early liiiighhttttt-'_

'_Please, in the name of every single deity there is, never butcher that song again.'_

'_Stevie!' Tony exclaimed, shutting up instantly. 'What's crackin, my man?'_

'_Aside from the fact that I've just been pulled from my bed in England? Not much. What was I summoned for? And make it quick, before someone realizes that I'm not in my body.' Steve was in England for Peggy's funeral...right..._

'_Barton's being an ass,' Nat whined. We all raised our eyebrows. 'What? He stole my soymilk! And tried to make ice cream out of it!'_

"Ew." Skye muttered, then amended her statement. "Well, I can't really say it hasn't happened...May does call them cleanses for a reason..." Natasha stared at her for a long second before bursting into laughter, the pillow she'd been holding sliding out of her grasp as she rolled around on the floor. "It's not funny!" the hacker protested. "Have you ever _been _with May on one of her cleanses? Once, while we were in Texas, and we had to do the kale cleanse, Hunter snuck out and bought out an entire McDonald's. Yeah," she emphasized to a still-laughing Natasha. "We had to push a minifridge from the lab into his room just to hold the McFlurries!"

"The Englishman eats American fast-food," Natasha chortled. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Simmons was so much worse," Skye retorted. "I think she and Fitz went on a McNugget binge. They didn't move from the bathroom for a week."

'_Clint, what did I tell you about screwing with Natasha's food?' Clearly, Steve was not in the mood to put up with bullshit. _

'_Only to screw with the tofu because it's a nasty invention that no one can really understand' was muttered under Clint's breath. _

"Bullshit," Natasha rolled her eyes at the screen. "I saw you eating that tofu last week, Barton."

'_Exactly. I'll see you in a week.'_

_Spirits can also wrench themselves from their summonings. Which results in a fire burning in their colors. See incident named 'That One Time We Had A Red, White and Blue Fire and Tony Decided to Charge For It'._

* * *

_Don't ever try to summon Bruce. Ever. Turns out the Other Guy doesn't do well with being summoned. We still have a missing wall somewhere._

* * *

_I'd never thought we'd need to summon Natasha, but we do. I don't even know how this happened, but we've got a frantic Skye in the fetal position in the living room and Nat's in Dublin. Neither Coulson or May have any idea what's going on. Simmons says there's nothing wrong with her physically, but she's scaring the hell out of all of us._

'_I need two Glocks, Nat's Widow Bites, some coffee, vodka, and some random Russian artifact!' For once, Tony's barking out orders. 'And that guy's leg.' And here I thought we were actually getting somewhere. _

Skye studiously avoided the assassin's gaze. "I was in a bad place." She didn't bother to mention _what _the bad place had entailed-she knew Natasha would end up needling it out of her anyways.

_We've been put back five minutes by Steve being confused as to whether to actually get someone's leg...Bruce is trying to convince him that no, it's just a movie reference, but Steve doesn't seem so convinced. We really need to sit him down for a movie marathon someday. _

_And for some reason, Clint's got a box of Russian chocolates in his room. It's probably best not to ask him why. Tony's slapping things together faster than I've seen him build things. And he builds pretty fast. _

'_Don't' is whimpered from Skye, the only word she's uttered since she's been brought in. 'Don't do it. Don't call Nat.'_

_Everyone in the room's just stopped. Most of them are looking at Skye with complete confusion on their faces. It's Tony who finally breaks the silence by quipping, 'Well, you don't really have a choice, Skye. I wanna see if we can summon the toughest of the tough.'_

_Obviously, we're trying to get Nat here for Skye, but Tony covering up seems to make her feel better about being in the fetal on the couch. Anything to stop her from feeling so weak, I guess._

_Wait._

_I get it._

_Skye doesn't want to look weak. _

_And apparently, May's getting the same vibe. 'Get her out of here,' she directs to Steve and Thor. 'Bed rest. Food. Water.' She's looking them straight in the eye, and I'm pretty sure Steve wants to turn tail and bolt. 'Offer. Hugs.'_

"Care to tell me what happened?" Natasha inquired casually, shutting the laptop. "I remember getting summoned, but no one would tell me what the hell for. Just Stark boasting shit about getting to summon the Black Widow."

Skye was silent for minutes on end, and time stretched by for what seemed like an eternity before she spoke. "I tried to die."

_Dammit._

When Natasha spoke again, it was a tone of seriousness, slight concern, and perhaps some slight indignation. All masked under a deadly calm. "How?"

The words tumbled out of Skye's mouth before she could reattach her brain to mouth filter. "We saw Ward. He got too close to me and tried to take advantage of me and I quaked the area around us and he was callingmeafreakandIknowitwasjustWardbutitwasjustthe_way_hesaidit and _god, _I wanted to die so badly that day and he was still yelling insults at me when they took him in and the next thing I know I'm staring at my ceiling thinking about the sedatives Simmons has in her lab and how she probably wouldn't miss any of them if I took some and I hated myself for thinking that, Nat, I _hated _it but I couldn't get out of it and I just-I couldn't-" She buried her head in her hands, shaking silently. For the first time, Natasha noticed the walls beginning to tremble, the pillow fort collapsing around them.

"Skye. You're quaking again." The hacker looked up, tears streaking down her face. Instantly, the tremors stopped.

"Sorry." She swiped at the salty liquid still choosing to make its way down her visage, sniffling to try and get her emotions into check. "It's why I don't like talking about these things."

Natasha sighed disapprovingly, remembering a point from Pepper's diary. "You said 'Don't call Nat.'," she alluded, making Skye bury her head back into her arms. "Why?" Her voice softened as she wrapped a blanket around the hacker, pulling her close. "Did you really think I was going to look at you as weak if you needed people?"

Skye's silence spoke volumes. "_You _don't need anyone."

"That's because I'm learning _how _to need people, Skye." Her reprimand was reproving but gentle. "Not needing anyone isn't necessarily a good thing." She paused before adding, "And there are only two people I need in this life. One of them is Clint, who I have needed, need, and will always need." There was another long pause before Natasha's voice broke the silence once more. "And I'm come to learn recently that maybe I sort of depend on you, too."

"You're _the _Black Widow," Skye whispered, still refusing to face her mentor. "You don't need me. How in the world could someone like me be useful to someone like you?"

"Sometimes infamous people need regular people, too. It helps them remind themselves that there's something worth living for in this world."

"I SHIP IT!" was shouted loudly from outside the door, followed by a loud round of shushing. Both women jumped, the mood in the room easily broken.

"Tony!"

"What? I do ship it!"

"We're gonna _die _now!" That was most likely Clint's panicked voice. "I don't wanna die yet!"

"Should we kill them?" Skye asked Natasha jokingly, still weighted with what their recent conversation had just implicated. "I call dibs on Stark."

"Fine by me." Natasha's green eyes glimmered with excitement as she grinned at the hacker. "Let's make it a Level 10 classified incident, yeah?"

* * *

**I TOLD YOU. FEELS. **

**Review for a birthday present? Please? (Yes. It is my birthday, haha.) Best review gets the Pop-Tarts!**

**Until next time! :)**


	33. DO NOT CALL HIM

**HAPPY EASTER Y'ALL! It's been a quiet week...but this one's going to be ugly, so apologies in advance. Thanks for all of the birthday wishes, by the way! VIRTUAL HUGS! :D**

**Shoutout to whitefenix and JayMitchell's for following! Best review goes to the Guest who kept asking for more Stucky (and it's kind of here for you, too!) HAVE POP-TARTS! **

* * *

It was quiet.

Almost _too _quiet.

For starters, it was almost noon and no one had gone chasing someone else through the living room. Not to say that it hadn't frequently happened before Callie and Nicky, but now that both kids were up and running...let's just say Steve had learned the best way to impact with the floor.

He turned the page of his newspaper, the pages making a crisp rustle in the silence. Scanning the headlines, Steve's wandering mind got the best of him, and he put the paper down with a sigh. _What was going to happen? _Usually, when nothing happened, the Tower's residents decided to compensate with something big.

"Ready?" a whisper echoed from the vents. At _that, _Steve's head jerked up towards the opening, suspicious. There was no way Clint was up yet-not with his recent return from Bangkok. It was mostly likely Natasha would be with him, assuaging his nightmares and tending to his wounds. Tony and Bruce would most likely still be up from the day before. Thor wouldn't fit in the vents, plain and simple. And neither would Bucky...

_Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun..._

Two shapes dropped to the ground in identical Captain America suits, one with a shocking head of blonde hair, the other with a red buzzcut that would've made a military general proud. They began to dance to the music blaring from the vents, complete with kicks, some basic disco, and a 'call me' gesture.

_Hey, I just met you_

_And this is crazy!_

_But here's my number! _

_So call me maybe!_

"It's hard to look right-" the blonde one sang, dramatically pointing to her partner, who continued right in sync.

"At you baaaaby!"

"But here's my number!" they echoed, holding out their palms towards Steve. "So call me maybe!"

The impromptu flash mob continued as Steve watched in equal parts mild horror and amusement as the duo traded off lines in perfect synchronization, a style that could only have been inherited from the people that had bred them.

_You took your time with the call _

_I took my time with the fall_

_You gave me nothing at all_

_But still you're in my way_

_Your hair was blowing_

_Ripped jeans, skin was showing_

_Hot night, wind was blowing_

"WHERE YOU THINK YOU'RE GOIN' BABY?!"

"Hey, I just met you!"

"And this is crazy!"

"But here's my number!"

"SO CALL ME MAYBE!" the two of them finished together, wiggling jazz hands galore. Steve's jaw had long fallen open, and he struggled to lift up a hand so he could close it. The figures looked at him expectantly, blue and green pleading for a review of their performance.

In all honesty, the things that shocked Steve the most was that Callie and Nicky had stopped arguing long enough to put together the whole dance routine. He wasn't even angry about the suits-although it _did _pique his curiosity as to who had bought them, and who had lost _that _bet (because a bet had to be involved when it came to these sort of things).

"So, Uncle Steve?" Callie demanded, breaking his stunned silence. "What'd you think of our flash mob? Did we do good? Did we scare you? We've been working on this for days, you know, ever since Daddy started singing it-"

_Ah, so Clint had started the whole thing. _"You guys did really well," Steve answered honestly, making the twins grin in delight. "Actually, I was wondering what the name of the song was. It's really catchy." It was twins' turn to be surprised, their jaws dropping open, eyes wide.

"You're kidding, right, Uncle Steve?" Nicky asked, recovering his voice while Callie shook her head vehemently, as if trying to dispel what he'd just said. "...you actually liked that song?" He regarded Steve suspiciously. "Did Daddy put you up to this? Uncle Tony? No? What about Auntie Skye?"

"I'm 100% serious, Nicky," Steve answered, grinning a bit at their reactions. "What's the name of that song?" He didn't mention that he'd use it as a potential method of asking a certain someone out on a date. Oh, no. He wouldn't hear the end of it.

"It's...Call Me Maybe...by Carly Rae Jepsen," Callie managed to stutter out before grabbing her twin brother by the wrist and dragging him out of the room, presumably to proclaim to the entire Tower that Steve Rogers, of all people, was a fan of 'Call Me Maybe'.

As soon as the two of them had departed, Steve's phone rang, a photo of a drunk Coulson flashing up on the screen. "Coulson?"

"I thought the Captain America suits were a nice touch, don't you think?"

* * *

This couldn't be happening.

There was no way in hell this could be happening.

She would rather take another Chitauri attack and Coulson dying again rather than this.

Because she'd lost Callie and Nicky.

Hill hadn't meant to lose them. Really, she hadn't.

Romanoff and Barton had been stuck in debriefing with Fury after 'botching' another mission (seriously, there needed to be specific paperwork for those two that _didn't _specify an extraction plan), and since neither of them trusted the other Avengers with watching the twins, the task fell to Hill. Normally, this would have been Coulson's job (Callie simply _loved _playing scientist with FitzSimmons and Bobbi, while Nicky was more of a 'let's go be reckless with Hunter' sort of kid), but the BUS was on a weeklong departure somewhere in South America that had left all of its inhabitants bitter that they didn't get to spend time with the Barton kids.

She loved the twins. They made her feel human again, like she wasn't someone built to give kill orders or make decisions against her conscience. But today had really been her off day. Some agent had chosen to misfile a choice piece of paperwork that led to a very confused Pepper Potts wondering why she'd received a dozen crates of oranges instead of the magnesium she'd been looking to ship in. Hill had spent her morning chewing out said agent, and in her haste to get her job done and over with, had spilled coffee all over herself, leaving the second-in-command with a ruined suit. To make matters worse, when she'd returned to her office, both Callie and Nicky had gone missing.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, slamming down the receiver of her phone for the fifth time in an hour. All of her various phone calls around SHIELD had gotten nothing in return. No sign of the kids anywhere. "Romanoff's going to kill me." With a sigh, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. It only made sense that she start writing out her will now; that way she could effectively plan a way to get out of the country and live it up before she died. _I, Maria Hill, leave the following items-_

"Agent Hill!" An agent in uniform came running into the room, sporting a mustache and sunglasses. Hill started, nearly throwing her pen at the agent, who was thoroughly out of breath. Great. Probably a rookie. They really needed to get better on physical strength at the academy.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded of the agent, quickly standing up. "And how did you get in here without proper security clearance? There are guards out there doing their jobs for a reason, you know. I'm going to have a word with security again," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I swear they spend too much time playing cards out there." Her gaze was leveled on the agent once again. To his credit, he didn't even flinch. "Well? What are you doing here? If you managed to get cleared, _obviously _you must have something important to tell me!"

"Look," the agent began, holding out his hands in protest. "I just met you, and this is crazy..."

Suddenly, another agent dropped from the ceiling, landing in a crouch that was painfully reminiscent of Romanoff's. Grinning as she stood up, she handed Hill a piece of paper before chirping "But here's my number, so call me maybe!" Music began to blare once more from the vent, a disco ball dropping from the hole where the second agent had descended from. Hill didn't know whether to appreciate the agent's skills, or whether it was from the last time Barton had pranked her.

Both agents launched into a synchronized dance routine, enthusiastically doing the disco with some gymnastics added in. She watched in shock as the girl flipped off of the boy's hands effortlessly, landing on the ground in a silent stick that would have made an Olympic judge proud.

With all of the music blaring, Hill hadn't yet taken the time to glance _outside _of her office to see what was happening. Sure enough, a gaggle of agents had gathered outside of her office, staring confusedly at the two agents who were risking their careers just to dance inside of Hill's office.

At that very moment, Director Fury himself chose to stroll in, holding a manila file full of paperwork. He stopped when he saw the two agents dancing, their uniforms somehow matching everyone's around them. His mouth had been open to say something, preferably about how she was needed, but the words that came out were,

"I can see you're busy, Agent Hill. I'll come back later."

"Wait, Directory Fury, I need-!" Hill's plea for help was cut off by the two agents, who had launched into their pose, to the applause of the crowd outside the office.

"Hi, Uncle Nick!" they chorused. "Did you like our dance?"

Fury smiled at that. Actually smiled. It would forever go down in history as 'That Twilight-Zone Day Where Fury Smiled'. "Hi, kids."

Now that she had a good look at the agents, they _were _a little too small to be regular agents. And their sleeves were kind of trailing at the edges... "Catalina Scarlett and Nikolai Renner Barton, you two are in for a world of pain when your parents get back. How could you to just run away like that?" she lectured the kids, whose faces immediately dropped, their heads hanging low. "You two had me so worried!"

"We're sorry, Auntie Maria," both kids echoed. "We won't do it again."

"Don't look so sad," she said, gathering them in for a hug. "But who gave you the suits?"

"Uncle Phil," Callie answered, sniffling. "He said it'd be a good idea if we wanted to freak you out."

"Okay, your Uncle Phil is about to find out what happens when he messes with me," Hill scowled, storming over to her phone. Callie and Nicky followed, partially scared as well as curious. Muttering under her breath, Hill dialed the number for the landline on the Bus. "Hi, Skye. No, nothing's the matter. I just have something I'd like to address to your dear boss. Patch me through to the PA, please." Five seconds later:

"COOOOOOUUULLLSONNNNNNNN!"

* * *

Peeking around a corner, Tony checked to see if the coast was clear before proceeding. One could never be too cautious these days. He'd already heard the tales of woe being set on Steve and Hill, and was desperate not to be the third victim. Tony harbored a deep hatred for that song that leveled somewhere between his hatred for Obidiah Stane and Justin Hammer. Only last week, Natasha had hacked his suit, changing his beloved AC/DC to a looping refrain of that blasted song.

"AAAAAAAAH!" The screams were unmistakably Pepper's, and Tony sighed in relief, jerkily dashing the rest of the way to the lab. The strains of 'Call Me Maybe' started up right after, a sure sign that Callie and Nicky had found their daily victim. He would live to see another day. When he reached the lab, he went straight to the sound system, booting up his usual blasting metal as he set to work.

Tony had no idea how much time had passed, but no one had interrupted him for a meal or to go to bed, so he figured that it was either a reasonable time of day or that he hadn't been down there for that long. What he did know, however, was that there was now a decent revision of tranquilizer arrow heads sitting in front of him, designed to turn their target into a walking mess that could speak only in Pig Latin.

Humming to himself, Tony reached for a wrench, intending to fix that one loose bolt on the release mechanism, when his speakers went silent.

"Wha-"

"RUN FOR COVER!" Bruce's girly shriek could be heard as he dashed through the lab like he was being chased by bloodhounds. He passed Tony quickly enough so that the billionaire was left scratching his head.

"Bruce-?" There was the slamming of a door, which Tony could only assume was the door to the soundproof portion of the lab. But why would he want to go into the soundproof part? Unless-?

_No. _

Apparently, the answer was yes, as the speakers began to blast 'Call Me Maybe'. "Hey, I just met you!" Callie dropped from the vent in a purple Iron Man suit minus the facemask (she'd convinced him to make her a purple suit after the Spy Kids event), microphone in hand. "And this is crazy!" Her only problem was that she sounded exactly like her mother. And Tony would've bet a good amount of money Natashalie wasn't able to hit those high notes.

"So here's my number!" Nicky's tenor, just like his father's, was more suited to the song, even though it took more work to hit the notes. "So call me maybe!" A disco ball popped out of the vents once again as he dropped to the floor in his red Iron Man suit, doing the worm. Tony took one look at the vents, making another mental note to Clint _and _Callie-proof the vents once more.

Meanwhile, inside of the soundproof cubicle, Bruce could only watch and laugh as Tony was forced to watch the flash mob, a horrified look on his face. "JARVIS, have you started recording yet? This is comedy gold. I don't think I've ever seen Tony this scared of anyone. And that includes Natasha and Clint when they're angry."

"I am indeed recording, Mister Banner," JARVIS answered smoothly. "I have been recording ever since you proclaimed to Master Stark to 'run for it', as you say."

"Before you came into my life I missed you so bad! I missed you so bad! And you should know that!" Callie and Nicky began to moonwalk out of the lab, the move going smoothly because of the tech Tony had installed into their suits. Oh, was he regretting that now. "So call me maybe!" And with that, they were out of the room, filling it with blessed silence.

Tony had only five seconds to breathe a sigh of relief before Nicky stuck his head back in, proclaiming energetically, "So will you, Uncle Tony? Will you? Will you? Will you?"

There was only one solution to this. "PEPPPERRRRR!"

"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR SETTING ALL OF THE PAPERWORK ON ME LAST WEEK!"

* * *

"I don't know how we're going to do this one," Nicky mused out loud, his legs swinging as he sat with Callie at the kitchen island. "Apart from Momma, Daddy is the hardest one to prank. We've hit all of the easy targets."

"That's it!" Callie exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "We'll get the impossible to help us conquer the impossible!"

"Huh?" For the offspring of the two greatest tactical minds of SHIELD, Nicky was sometimes slow on the uptake. "You can't conquer the impossible with the impossible, Callie. Even Uncle Tony knows that. He stopped trying a long time ago."

"You said that the only one harder to prank than Daddy was Momma, right?" Callie asked. "So what if we get Momma to help us?"

"...he'd never stand a chance!" Nicky realized, a lightbulb going on over his head. "Callie, you're a genius!"

"Are we planning on pranking your father?" Natasha's voice came from the corner of the living room, as both twins jumped. "Because if you are, I hope you realize the only one who can truly prank him is me."

"We need your help, Momma," Callie admitted as her mother came into the kitchen, taking a seat besides the kids. "We've flashmobbed all the easy people and now we need to get the hard ones."

"I'll help you," Natasha agreed. After all, it would be some nice payback for Clint switching the salt and sugar this morning. Her coffee had tasted awful. Nor had it done wonders for Thor when she'd spit it out all over him. "Alright, here's what we need to do..."

"You need me to do _what _with Moljnir?" Thor asked an hour later, as the three Bartons stood in front of him. "Are you sure this will not invite retaliation?"

"Not until a later date," Callie answered decisively, crossing her arms. "Momma's planning on replacing all of the coffee with decaf. Daddy won't be able to function for a while. Neither will Uncle Tony, but that's a moot point."

"Okay, remember, here's the plan," Natasha said to Thor, who immediately snapped to attention. "I'll let you in around 11:30, after Clint's passed out. You put the hammer on his chest and I'll slap the sensor on it. Callie, Nicky, you two get into the vents and install the speakers. I'll move the alarm clock across the room and set it to 5 am. You two get to sleep in your father's vents," she addressed the twins, who were visibly shaking with excitement. "I've set your watches."

"I'll go distribute earplugs!" Callie exclaimed, dashing off.

"And I'll go set up what we'll need!" He headed towards the labs, yelling for Bruce.

"I'm going to get set up on the couch," Natasha sighed, running a hand through her red tresses. "It's gonna be a long night."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_I'mmmmmmmm gonna swinnnggggg_

_From the chandelierrrrrrrrrr_

_From the chandelieeeeerrrrrrrr_

As the alarm continued to blare on, Clint opened his eyes groggily, confused at the lack of light that wasn't streaming into his room. His vision cleared as he squinted at the alarm clock across the room, sitting forlornly in a corner. _5:00_, it read.

"Five o'clock?" he asked, collapsing back onto his pillow. "That's the asscrack of dawn! Why the hell is my alarm on that early?" He struggled to get up to shut it off, then perhaps kill whoever'd set it that early.

_Was that Thor's hammer on his chest? _Sighing, he tugged at the handle experimentally, not surprised with it didn't budge an inch. But whenever he pulled it, there was the slight sound of piano chords. He wasn't hallucinating...right? He pulled it again. Yup, there were the chords.

Clint groaned. He didn't want to ask JARVIS to have Thor come and get it off, because it would probably result in several broken walls. Nat was who knew where. "I wish this thing would come off," he muttered, hoping the wish would resonate somewhat with the Asgardian prince.

But instead of getting a prince, he got two children.

Dressed in Black Widow and Hawkeye suits.

"I threw a wish in the well,"

"Don't ask me, I'll never tell"

"I looked to you as it fell"

"But still you're in my way"

"WHERE YOU THINK YOU'RE GOIN' BABY?" As if Callie and Nicky in their parents' suits wasn't enough, Clint mused, Natasha jumped into the sequence at that very moment, wearing what was definitely a stolen Captain America suit. Together, the three of them belted,

_HEY, I JUST MET YOU_

_AND THIS IS CRAZY_

_BUT HERE'S MY NUMBER_

_SO CALL ME MAYBE_

_IT'S HARD TO LOOK RIGHT_

_AT YOU BAAAAABY_

_BUT HERE'S MY NUMBER_

_SO CALL ME MAYBE_

"Alright, alright!" Clint exclaimed, covering his ears. "I get it! I get it! I'm sorry I got the song stuck in everyone's heads, alright?!"

"Not everyone," Nicky answered innocently. "Uncle Steve thought it was pretty cool. Maybe Uncle Bucky will think so too?"

"Yeah!" Callie echoed. "Since they totally belong together!"

"Not just yet," Natasha muttered. She had a month's worth of her supposed SI paycheck put down on that bet. There were another three weeks to go. "Not just yet..."

* * *

Bucky stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Even with the earplugs Callie had been so kind to distribute the night before, he could still hear the blare of the song from his room. Ah, well. He supposed it was karma that was getting Barton back for introducing the song to the entire team. Although Bucky didn't really mind-it gave him some pretty creative ideas.

"Would you look at that," he said to no one in particular as he saw the already-full pot of coffee. "Bless their hearts, whoever that was." Snagging his cup from the cabinet, he frowned at the little note that was taped to the bottom of the mug. _Hey, I just met you!_ Shrugging to himself, he fished out the paper and poured himself coffee instead. Probably Barton's attempt at wooing Natasha. He'd have to let the archer know about the fail later.

Next were his eggs-Steve had gotten Bucky used to a serious over-and-easy serving of eggs every morning, and this morning was no exception, even though his best friend (and more, his brain echoed to him) wasn't there to make it for him. Humming as he reached for the eggs, he abruptly stopped as he found another note. _And this is crazy! _Shaking his head, he took a different egg, turning to the stove.

_But here's my number!_

There was nothing more after that, and Bucky chalked it up to a failed attempt at romance while he finished his breakfast, throwing the dishes in the sink before heading to his room to pick up his coat-it was his turn to go shopping today.

He snagged the ever-growing list of groceries and the SI credit card designated for groceries, looking over the list as he went and crossing out overly demanding requests. _Seriously, Stark? You want thirty cans of yogurt? Thirty cans of Chobani strawberry Greek yogurt? No. And no lobster for Romanov. She inhales that shit. Barton is __not__ getting that box of cake mix. It'll be his ammo for the next week. Maybe I'll get that tea for Bruce if I can find it. _

_Oh, but look at that. Callie needs some coconut flakes and confectioner's sugar. And Nicky needs some pumpkin pie spice. _He mentally put stars next to those items, because the kids were the kids. If asked, Bucky wouldn't admit to having a soft spot for them-but he did.

People were giving him weird looks in the street, but he chalked that up to the fact that he was carrying a considerable amount of groceries in his arms. He'd ended up getting everything reasonable on the list, including a lot of apples and chocolate (it went without questioning, the list said. It was a hasty scrawl from Pepper). There was the tea Bruce had asked for, Bucky having found it after some considerable haggling with the store manager. And, of course, the sushi ingredients Steve had privately asked for the night before. He didn't know what the super-soldier intended to do with it, but Bucky just hoped he was included.

"I'm calling you!" a random passerby shouted to him. "Why aren't you picking up, man?" Bucky stopped abruptly, causing several people to collide with him.

"_What_?" he asked, horrified. "Where the hell does it say to call me?"

"On the back of your jacket, dude," the passerby answered him. "There's a sign on your back that says 'SO CALL ME MAYBE' with a number on the bottom."

Bucky sighed. _Romanov..._ "Thanks," he said to the man. "But I'm already spoken for." He gave the guy a little half-shrug before continuing on his way back to the Tower, already thinking about how he would cut Natasha off from his cooking.

But as soon as he made it into the Tower, he was assaulted by Callie and Nicky, who were both clad in little robot suits; one was in purple and the other red. Music blared out from some unknown source, merely adding to Bucky's mental exhaustion.

"Before you came into Steve's life he missed you so bad! He missed you so bad! And you should know that!"

"SO CALL HIM MAYBE!" was exclaimed by Nicky, who then tore out of the room, terrified for his life. Callie and Bucky stared after him, one of them fighting a grin on her face.

"...did your mom and dad put you up to this?" Bucky casually said to Callie. "Because I need to know who to cut off from the fries tonight."

"Please don't cut off the fries, Uncle Bucky!" Callie pleaded. "It was me! I swear it was me! I just wanted to see you and Uncle Steve together! But please don't cut me off from your fries! I love your fries!"

Bucky sighed. Looks like he was outed. "Look, I'll tell you a secret," he said to the eight-year-old, who looked like she was about to cry. She gasped and leaned in. "I'm already dating your Uncle Steve."

"Really?" Callie exclaimed, her face lighting up. "Are you serious?"

"I am dead serious," Bucky affirmed. "If you don't tell anyone, I'll tell your Uncle Steve to invite you to sushi night next week. But you can't tell _anyone._"

"Not even Nicky or Momma or Daddy?"

"Nope. There's a bet going on between your uncles, aunts and parents. Your Auntie Maria's supposed to win, but her date isn't until next week."

"Ohhh..." was the realization of the blonde girl as she grinned spastically. "Don't worry Uncle Bucky, your secret's safe with me!"

* * *

**YAYYYY! STUCKY! *realizes I need to go fish out my friendship bracelets* oh yikes...**

**Read and review? Best one gets the footage of Tony looking like an idiot! See you guys soon! :D**


	34. Why Lowering Inhibitions Is a Bad Idea

**HERE WE GO AGAIN WOOOOOOO I'm on a crazy high bc I've spent the entire afternoon talking to Pikapegasus, lol AND PARTIAL CREDIT FOR A PLOT POINT AS WELL AS HELPING ME FIGURE OUT THE PATH. And actually, YOU WIN BEST REVIEW SO HAVE FOOTAGE :D**

**Shoutout to Black Dragon on the Rocks, Luna the HP fan, and ShadowDragonAsmodean for following! I now have 100 followers! THANKS SO MUCH EVERYONE! :D**

* * *

"See, this is why people belong in prisons," Steve grumbled as his shield rebounded once more back to him. He caught it in his right hand, bounding forward once more with Clint by his side. "So they don't break out and decide to shoot everyone with dangerous neurotoxins!"

"I think what scares me the most is that the victims aren't showing any side effects," Bruce answered him over the comm, worry laced in his voice. "There's nothing wrong with them-physically, at least. I'm worried it's a little deeper than that."

"Check for brain activity," Clint commanded, firing off another volley of arrows. "When in doubt, always check brain activity." Since his days with Loki, the archer was always reluctant to rule out mind control, as ludicrous as that first time had been.

"Clint, I don't think-"

"Just. Do. It." There was no arguing with Clint when he used that tone of voice-almost everyone had tried, except for Steve and Natasha. They knew him well enough not to. Bruce sighed.

"All right. I'll check for brain activity. But Clint, you realize that mind control is purely magical, right? I've examined the formula. It's organic. Whatever we're dealing with here isn't mind control."

"I do, thank you very much," Clint sighed. "Just go me on this, Bruce. I have an ugly feeling about this."

"I suppose it's unnecessary to warn you to not get shot?" Bruce addressed the team, who answered in affirmation. "And I mean it, Tony. Pepper's birthday is next week. Don't do it."

"But even if someone got shot," Tony answered, "wouldn't it be ideal for Natashalie or Cap to do it? After all, they are most ideal to deal with these sort of things..."

"Not on your life, Stark." came Natasha's snarl. "I think I'd rather play a round of Truth or Dare."

"Just a reminder I'll hold you to that!" Tony sang as he fired more repulsors. "And you'll regret the day you agreed to play Truth or Dare with me! You know," he added casually, "I ask _very _probing questions."

"And do I ever answer them, Stark?" Natasha muttered. The entire team could hear her rolling her eyes, Steve mused. Or maybe it was just him because they knew each other so well. "Do I _ever _answer them directly?"

"Do you, Natashalie? Do you?"

There was a pause, as Natasha seemed to brutally stab one of the drones they'd been called in to deal with. "I'm going to kill you when I get back, Stark." she promised. "No one asks roundabout questions but me."

Each Avengers jumped as Bruce let out a loud shriek, preparing for a possibility of Hulk-out. When none came, each of them sighed in relief-drones shooting an unknown substance was enough for them to handle. They were already spread out enough as it was, with Tony in Chelsea, Steve and Clint in Brooklyn, Thor in Greenwich, and Natasha holding her own in Manhattan. "Uh, guys?" There was a tinge of nervousness in his voice. "I think I've figured out what happened to the people..." Steve and Clint exchanged looks. If _Bruce _was nervous, then they should've all been running for the hills. "Whatever they got shot with, looks like it lowered their inhibitions. All of the women are running after me."

"Well, Bruce, I can promise you I won't," Natasha quipped in the stunned silence that followed. "Sorry, but you're not my type." The tension broke as the other five burst into laughter, Thor chortling as he caught his hammer once more.

"Seems like they're all over you, Brucie," Tony laughed. "Thank God for suits. The women are already after me enough as is. Not that I have any sort of inhibitions whatsoever."

"And you wonder why Pepper stays with you," Clint rolled his eyes at Steve, who snorted in agreement as his shield made more ricochets. "All's quiet on our front," he addressed the team, joining the super-soldier, who'd caught his weapon, dusting himself off. "No injuries. Anyone else good?"

"The area seems to be secure," Thor answered as the _whoosh _of Moljnir could be heard, smacking back into his hand. "I am famished, Friend Stark. Where is it that we shall be feasting? I hear that the festival of food trucks is good this time or year."

Tony was about to reply that _maybe_ the food trucks weren't the best choice this time around, seeing as people had been shot with dangerous chemicals that made them-well, high, supposedly-when Steve let out a loud yelp.

Instantly, the whole team was on red alert. "Dude, you good?" Clint asked, frantically checking his teammate. The sounds of a drone whirring came to their left, and immediately, the last hunk of metal was dispatched with an arrow to the head. The archer darted around the super-soldier quickly, swearing loudly at the sight of a dart, the bright blue liquid being injected into the skin. "He's been shot with the injection."

"_Shit._"

"By the gods."

There was the sound of a barrage of bullets being let loose into a wall. They all assumed Natasha had taken her frustrations out on a nearby wall.

"I don't get why you guys are worrying about me," Steve said nonchalantly, startling the rest of them. "I'm doing fine. Or maybe that's because it's only Clint next to me. I don't want to jump him."

"I never want to hear those words come out of his mouth again," Tony shuddered, while the rest of them silently agreed. "That was just a line I never wanted to cross."

"I still want to check you over once we're done," Bruce admonished. "And if you get shot again, have Clint keep an eye on you. Your serum might be combatting the first dose, but any more shots and you'll be jumping every woman within a hundred feet." There was the sound of a slap. "Most likely fending them off, too."

"Anyone." Steve said slowly. He really hoped there weren't any drones left. He only had three women constantly in his life, and he _really _wanted to jump one of them. Just...after the proper dating techniques. "Let's really hope I don't get shot again."

"Guess we'll finally find out who Cap's got it bad for!" Tony cackled, already on his way back to the Tower. "JARVIS, remind me to start planning the bachelor party. We're not wasting any time with this fossil. I'm tempted to steal some of this and inject Cap himself. Stuff sounds like truth serum."

"Why are you assuming you'll throw a party again?" Steve questioned, as he started on the walk back. "Remember, Stark, I'm perfectly fine."

"We'll just see when you get back."

* * *

"I told you not to get hurt," Natasha hissed as Steve arrived in the medical wing. "And just what do you have here?" Truthfully, he found her concern hilarious. There was no denying a good laugh when Natasha got angry. It was like a little dog-dangerous on the outside but cuddly on the inside.

"Oh, those are just from half an hour ago, Nat, it's nothi-OW!" She punched him in the arm. There was the sound of a crack. "So maybe I had a broken bone or two."

"That doesn't sound like nothing!" she exclaimed. "You broke your _arm_, Steve! What the hell! And you got shot with that _thing_-who knows if it's screwing with your serum?"

"Well, what about you, Nat?" he asked, grabbing her arm. He sighed when she winced, pulling up her sleeve to see a deep blue bruise forming on her forearm. "Should I even asked if you were shot, stabbed at, or cut?"

"There's a graze on my left shoulder," she admitted, defeated. "And a couple of cuts on my stomach. And maybe some glass embedded somewhere? That's shallow, though-hey!" At that, Steve picked her up, cradling her in his arms into the medical wing. "Put me down!"

"No can do, Nat," he teased, readjusting her. "Team protocol states that if a member is injured in more than once place, they are physically not allowed to walk. Dr. Banner, please," he said to a passing nurse. "She needs medical attention."

"_I'm fine,_" Natasha answered through gritted teeth. "You're the one who needs medical attention, Steve, and Bruce, check him out first," she said to Bruce as he came up to both of them, showing no surprise at her in his arms. "You should see if the thing he got injected with screwed him over, I can go later." Her protests went in vain as she was plopped onto an examining table, Steve taking a seat at the other end of the room.

"There's glass embedded in your thigh, Natasha, it's a wonder you even made it back here," Bruce admonished as he reached for a pair of tweezers, preparing to pull out various shards. "I'd hold onto something, this is going to hurt."

Instantly, Steve was across the room, presenting himself as a grip as Natasha grabbed onto him, her strength making up for what she didn't want to say in words. An excruciating amount of time passed before the last _plink _of glass hit the bowl. Her hand immediately relaxed, and fixed Steve with a glare. "Your turn."

Steve sighed, plopping himself into a chair beside her as Bruce began to attach the nodes to his head, connecting them to various machines. It was a while before anyone spoke, worry radiating off of Natasha in waves. Steve just sat there, oblivious to all of it.

_How could anyone be so __dense__? _Bruce wondered to himself. With all of the constant worrying that went on between the two, it was a wonder they hadn't yet gotten married. Of course, barring their ugly pasts and emotions, but those had been breached a long time ago on a sunset pier in Boston. They just thought no one knew about that. "Well," he said out loud to Steve, "physically, there's nothing wrong with you." Natasha snorted at the mention of that-apparently his re-broken arm had already healed. "But there's something about your blood makeup...that's it." He looked at the super-soldier excitedly. "Your metabolism's down."

"It is true I haven't been hungry," Steve muttered thoughtfully. "So you're saying that instead of lowering my inhibitions, it lowered my metabolism?"

"That is _exactly _what I'm saying," Bruce declared, hustling over to detach the nodes. "So I would reduce your caloric intake for awhile, just until the toxin gets out of your bloodstream. It hasn't reduced your physical capabilities, so everything else about you should be just fine. In fact..." He hesitated. "I'd actually almost say you had the ability to get drunk."

"I heard the words 'Cap' and 'drunk' together!" Tony exclaimed, bursting into the medical wing. "Let's get him wasted! I'll get the regulars, Natashalie, you get your stuff, and I'll tell Legolas and Point Break to get the camera, this is a night no one's ever going to forget!"

No one wanted to question how he'd heard it.

* * *

"Is all of this alcohol _really _necessary?" Steve asked nervously, glancing at all of the different bottles on the table. True to his word, Tony had gotten his hands on every alcohol he could find, stacking bottles upon bottles upon the table. So far he hadn't seen any duplicates.

Natasha came in with her arms full of bottles, plunking them on the table with a solid _thud_. "Got everything I could find, Stark," she declared, smirking at Steve. "We're sparing _no _expense."

"Not you, too," he groaned, as Clint arrived with shot glasses and a camera. "Are we really going to try and get me drunk?" The answer was a resounding _yes _among all of the Avengers, Tony's the most vehement.

"Let's make it a drinking game," Tony announced. "How's Truth or Dare?"

"_Again?_" Clint echoed, filling his own shot glass. "We just played that last week!"

"Yeah, but I don't remember any of it!" Tony retorted. "And this time, we'll be around to record it! Legolas, you set up the camera, right?"

"Right in the corner," Clint promised. "Anyone that screws with it is getting an arrow to the head tonight. I want to remember this." All six of them gathered in a circle, each with a bottle of alcohol close to them; save Bruce, who was sighing next to Thor with a glass of orange juice. (It made him hyper, he said. No one knew why.)

"I'll go first!" Tony exclaimed, taking a shot. "Let's see..never have I ever wished to be a dog." Everyone just looked at Thor, who sighed and downed his shot glass.

"It was that one time," he lamented, refilling his glass. "All I did was express my wish to be a Golden Retriever, and now I fear I shall never hear the end of it." He took another shot, sighing once more.

"I'm with you," Clint took a shot with Thor's second one. "All they do is eat, bark and sleep. Plus, they can shit wherever they want." He leveled a glare at the other Avengers. "Don't tell me you've never thought about that at _some _point." Another shot was taken. "Never have I ever...thought about trying to fit into Nat's catsuit."

Every single Avenger, save Natasha and Clint, took a shot. "I remember Steve actually _tried _to fit into it once," she snickered, as Steve's head swiveled towards her in horror. "Oh, yes, you're remembering that now, aren't you?" she teased as Steve took another shot, looking close to crying. "Yup. I think we needed the Jaws of Life to get you out of there once you were zipped in. I never asked," she began coyly, as Steve nervously took another shot, his arm automatically refilling his glass. "Who zipped you in?"

"Skye," he muttered. He didn't mention how the hacker had laughed her ass off for three straight hours, requiring Simmons to sedate her so she wouldn't pass out. "That time I was on Coulson's bus." He shook his head, taking a shot.

To save him from humiliation, Thor decided to go next. "Never have I ever...had intercourse in this foreign country named Japan." Rolling her eyes, Natasha took a shot, actually cracking open a bottle of vodka and chugging it down. "Lady Jane hath decided that it will make a wonderful vacation for the both of us. We plan to leave in a month. I assume intercourse will take place?"

Clint, who had taken several shots (one could only presume it was for the number of times he'd had sex in Japan), answered, "If you two don't get it on, I'd be surprised. That sushi does weird shit to people."

Steve was next, and as inebriated as he was (who knew Captain America was such a lightweight?), squeaked out the worst answer he could've come up with in his life:

"Never have I ever had sex in Russia?"

The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Tony decided to ruin the moment, of course, as he always did:

"You mean to tell me you didn't bang _anyone _during your time in the war, Rogers? At least tell me you've had your star-spangled cherry popped, man! Because if that hasn't happened, I'll have to take matters into my own hands!"

Everyone shuddered at the idea of Tony getting it on with Steve (mostly because of what would follow, also known as Pepper's shitstorm). Natasha, however, chose to have a different reaction.

Her glare was her three-second warning to Steve before a drink flew into his face, and she stormed off to the kitchen, needing to clear her head before she _actually _chucked a knife at him. She could hear the super-soldier burying his head in his hands in embarrassment.

"What have I even done?" Steve groaned. "I knew this toxin was screwing with me." He'd heard drinking was a good way to forget things. Snagging one of the extra shot glasses Clint had brought, Steve began to drink ambidextrously: as soon as one drink was finished, another would be poured and ready to go. Even Tony watched worriedly, scared that he was going to run out of alcohol before more secrets were painfully extracted.

"Shouldn't you slow down a bit, man?" Bruce asked. "I mean, you wouldn't want to give yourself alcohol poisoning..."

Steve came up for air, some whiskey dripping down his chin. "What's the point?" he asked, sighing as he put the glasses down. "Nat's going to kill me anyways. Might as well drink away my feelings for her before they come out as a last-minute confession before my death."

Clint, Tony, Thor and Bruce froze. "_What_?" Apparently, Steve was like a walking fountain of truth when he was drunk. Not that he already wasn't, it was just that...he revealed _way _more than anyone wanted to know.

"I'm in it deep for Nat," Steve confessed over the rim of another shot, sighing. "And it's more than just face deep-I always want to smack people who look at her like that." As he continued to down shots, his confessions grew bolder. "There's a way she holds herself-ike she's the queen of some distant country, always regal and brave. And she stays humble through it all. Last week when we went to go visit the children's hospital? The way she was with those kids-you didn't see any of the Black Widow at all. None of the 'I'm gonna kick your ass' threats-okay, maybe except for that one guy that tried to hit on her-and it was all so sweet." There was another sigh, the sadness plaintive in his eyes. "No one ever sees that side of Nat that often. It's the thing I love most about her. Contrary to what people think, she hates red-her favorite color is turquoise. Her favorite stone is citrin-it's her birthstone. She always orders an iced green tea wherever she can help it-coffee is a survival tool."

From the kitchen, Natasha froze, halfway to pouring herself a glass of champagne. She'd thought the bubbles would lift up her anger and throw it all away, but that'd gone out the window when Steve'd started rambling.

_He's just drunk, Natalia, _she reminded herself. _He doesn't mean any of it. _

_But could he? _another part of her chided. _Could he be sober, even though he's drunk? _

_No, _ was the final reprimand of her brain. _He's just drunk off his ass, and that's final._

But Natasha couldn't help but feel spellbound by his words. Had he really taken the time to remember that much about her? Not even Clint could be bothered to remember she was secretly a green tea fan-he always brought her coffee each and every morning, without fail. His favorite stone was ruby. His favorite color was actually green, not red, white or blue. And Steve never did coffee straight up-it was always mixed with hot chocolate, his own concoction.

She loved how he was real and never had to mask anything. How he didn't expect anything of people, and wasn't disappointed when they turned out to be less than he'd wanted. How he was so _good _and _forgiving _and _honest_-something that she painfully wanted in her own life. It was like he'd never known evil in his life, and while she knew that wasn't true, he still managed to greet the world every single morning with a disarming smile and a charming comment.

She wouldn't lie to herself (and maybe it was just the alcohol talking), but she wanted that goodness in her life. She was tired of all of the red in her ledger, tired of being such a pretty face. She was tired of being seen as one-dimensional-she wanted to be brave, she wanted to be smart, she wanted to be kick-ass. And being pretty would just be a plus.

"I just wish she knew that she was everything I see her to be," Steve wistfully groaned, staring at his drink. "I wish that she could see that I see her as more than just a face. I wish that she could see that she doesn't need to try and compensate for her past, she already does that by just _being_. I wouldn't hesitate to tell her that every single morning I woke up next to her. I _wish _I could wake up next to her every single morning." There was another shot. "I wish I could see the constellations in her green eyes, shining brightly whenever she gets excited or happy. I wish I knew her in every single way. I don't care about her past, what she's done, or what she thinks she's caused. It wasn't her, and even though it'll be a part of her, I just don't care." He let out a strangled sob. "I think this is the part where you tell me I'm a lovesick fool and I really need a girlfriend."

Looking over his shoulder, Clint saw Natasha standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her eyes brimming with emotion. Without a word, she slipped past the group and headed to the elevator, no one even noticing when she departed, the elevator doors sliding shut with a _whoosh_.

They had bigger problems: Steve had passed out.

* * *

_What happened? _Steve groggily opened his eyes, and for the first time, seeing not his own ceiling, but that of the living room. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, making him scrunch his eyes shut in pain. _Agh. That hurts. _

"Good morning, my dear Captain!" Thor boomed, shrinking back as Steve grabbed his head in pain. "...have I troubled you?"

"He's got a hangover," Clint proclaimed cheerfully, striding into the room after the god. "You know what to do with hangovers," At that, Thor's face lit up, and he slowly backed out of the room, whispering about aspirin and coffee.

"What happened last night?" Steve groaned to Clint, whose face darkened slightly before applying a mask.

"You got drunk. Probably for the first and only time in your life." Clint paused before adding, "You got so wasted you passed out. We had to put you on the couch. Tony was pissed that he didn't get more secrets out of all of us."

_Secrets. _"Did I say anything stupid?"

There was a long pause. "...no." _Emotionally scarring, yes. But stupid, no. Nat may be a tactical genius, but she's an idiot when it comes to love. _

Steve was about to respond, but was suddenly seized by a heaving in his stomach. He lurched off of the couch, rushing past Clint and to the bathroom just off the side of the kitchen, barely making it to the toilet before he expelled all of the contents of his stomach, including a not-so-appetizing chicken pot pie that had been delicious the night before.

"I'm never getting drunk again."

"I don't think you'll be able to," Bruce's voice floated in from the doorway of the bathroom. "The blood sample I took looks like the toxin's made its way out of your system." He appeared in the doorway, frowning at the sweating captain. "Thor's got coffee and aspirin on the kitchen counter."

"For the last time, _I'm not going to say anything, Clinton!_" Natasha's frustrated exclamation was heard by the entire time, spiking Steve's migraine. "It was one. Thing. Okay? One. Thing!" A confused Steve made his way out of the bathroom, gratefully gulping down the coffee and aspirin on the counter.

"What's up, Nat?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her even though it hurt to do so. "Clint catch you singing One Direction again?" Natasha froze, her eyes panicked before she ran out of the room. He frowned at her departure.

"What'd I do last night?"

* * *

A whole week passed in this fashion; whenever Steve would enter a room, Natasha would make excuses to get out. Whenever they were _forced _to be in a room together, she would cordially ignore him, making conversation instead with anyone else in the vicinity.

(Steve knew she was ignoring him when she elected to make conversation with _Tony _instead of him, and casual conversation at that. There wasn't even an insult thrown in for good measure.)

He tried everything he knew-hunting her down, cornering her schedule-but nothing seemed to work. Natasha had truly mastered the art of evasion: when she didn't want to be found by someone, she made damn well sure that it happened.

Steve just never thought those tactics would be used against _him_.

He tried asking the other Avengers. Tony would point out that he'd been just as drunk and didn't remember a thing. Clint would shift nervously and say the same thing every time-nothing of importance had been said, and he had _absolutely no idea _why Natasha was acting the way she was. Thor proclaimed that 'perhaps it was Lady Romanoff's time of the month', an excuse that had half of SHIELD wincing.

Bruce told him to just forget about it-that it was better he didn't know. That alone made Steve more concerned than ever. All he remembered was admitting that he'd been zipped into Natasha's suit that one time by Skye-maybe that was it? He inquired so of Bruce, who simply shook his head and once more advised Steve to forget that one night.

He really would've if it hadn't meant Natasha ignoring him for all eternity.

* * *

"I told you not to get hurt," he whispered to her another week later, a forlorn echo of the words she'd spoken to him two weeks ago when he'd been shot with the toxin. "I _told _you not to go running recklessly into that, Natasha, why?"

The Avengers had been summoned once more to deal with another batch of drones, this time holding nearly lethal toxins. These ones were designed to do a lot more than just lower inhibitions-they were designed to lower brain activity, slowing it to the point where their victim mimicked being in a coma.

Natasha, being stubborn as usual, had charged into a skirmish without backup, valiantly taking out ten drones before being shot in the back, crumpling like one of Steve's discarded sketches. It'd been him who'd gotten to her first, scooping her up into his arms in an eery reminisce of how he'd scooped her into his arms the last time.

And now, the Black Widow lay unconscious in a sterile hospital room, where everything was white and bland and so and so empty of life and _not _his Natasha-

Steve wouldn't go there. For where they stood, they were never going to speak to each other again. His feelings were useless.

Not to mention he still didn't know what he'd done to mess them up so badly. But he knew he wasn't going anywhere, not until she woke up. This time, he reasoned, she wouldn't be able to escape and _maybe _he could figure out what the hell was going on.

He sat in the chair next to her hospital bed, perking up slightly when Bruce entered the room. The scientist looked just as rattled as Steve felt, a white-knuckled grip clutching a clipboard in his left hand. He greeted the super-soldier with a sad smile.

"We still don't know if she's going to make it." He tried to deliver the blow gently, but how does one deliver news that the love of one's life is going to die? "Tony's going crazy trying to synthesize something, but her brain waves are slowing. She might be brain dead soon."

Steve felt his world caving in on him, a buckling pressure that threatened to crush him. Natasha couldn't be dead. She just _couldn't_. The words 'Natasha' and 'dead' didn't go together, ever. Unless it was from ripe old age, Steve had somehow gotten it into his head that Natasha wouldn't kick the bucket from battle.

Somberly, he regarded the redheaded beauty in the bed next to him, quietly taking her hand. "I don't know if you can hear me or not, Nat," he began, voice shaking slightly. "But you can't die on me. You can't. I don't-I don't know what I'd do without you." Steve took another deep breath, attempting to steady himself. "I am absolutely, unequivocally, unabashedly, completely and foolishly head over heels in love with you, Natasha Romanoff," he admitted. "And yes, I can already hear you in my head telling me that that's not your real name and that I don't really know you if I don't even know your real name, Nat. But here's the thing. I read your file. I've had some time to read things over the last few days. I know who you are. You're Natalia Alianova Romanova, who likes citrin and turquoise and green tea. Your favorite spot in New York is the crown of the Statue of Liberty. You're more of a polka dot person than a stripes person, and you will never, ever, _ever _hesitate to sign a kid's autograph." He paused. "You have a love for sushi. Your favorite alcohol is actually gin, but you won't tell Tony because he'll call you a wuss. You have-" He choked up. "You have a tiny shield bracelet on your ankle." At that, Steve chuckled. "You got drunk once. Apparently I'm the only one who's seen it."

"It's a shield with an hourglass in the middle."

Steve snapped out of his reverie at the hoarse words, hardly daring to believe himself as Natasha's eyes fluttered open. For the first time in two week, blue dove into green, tracing the constantly shifting shapes he found. To her credit, she didn't look away. "Nat."

"Did you really mean all of that?" Part of her wanted to push the confession away, filing it under a medically induced haze, like the drunken confession. Never having to deal with it again. She'd come to realize over the past week that she'd needed Steve more than she'd realized, and that had scared the hell out of her. She'd been worried that somehow, her emotion would've shown through her eyes, and with Steve's uncanny ability to read her so accurately, it would've been best to stay away.

_It wasn't like he __really __felt that way...right?_

"Why wouldn't I mean it?" he asked, sincerely confused. "Please, Nat, tell me what's going on." The look on his face was pure heartbreak for Natasha, and she suddenly felt horrible about shutting him out for the last fortnight.

"Well..." She fidgeted, not really sure how to answer. "See, the last time you said those words...you were kind of drunk...and I wasn't really sure if you...I..."

"_That's _what happened two weeks ago." The realization (and recognition) suddenly dawned on Steve. The 'never have I ever'. Natasha throwing a drink in his face. His drunken, rambling confession. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I...I didn't know if it was just you drunk rambling," she rushed, looking down at their intertwined hands. "And I didn't want to delude myself into something that might've not been real...and..." She swallowed the lump in her throat just then, blinking back a tear. "You have to understand."

"You should've just told me," he answered simply, pulling her hand towards his to kiss it. "Whenever I get drunk, I'm a walking, talking truth serum. Anything in my head will be said sans hesitation. I would know. I got drunk once, back during the war. They never let me live it down that I said I once had a crush on our high school teacher."

"Well, I hope you've forgotten her now," Natasha whispered, a bright smile gracing her features.

"I don't even remember her name," he confessed in the same tone. "It's been consumed by a fire, burning bright and fast in my heart."

* * *

When Bruce looked in later, he had to conceal a grin at the sight of Steve and Natasha curled up in the hospital bed together, holding on to each other like the world was ending and they were they only thing the other had.

"Clint, you owe me fifty bucks."

* * *

**ah crap feels...again...Please read and review? Please? And follow? Please? I know these are late postings, and they're probably always going to be late...aka now...But please? Best review gets a carbon copy of Nat's anklet!**


	35. Nerf Gun Wars in Stark Tower

**If you want my excuses, let me know. I'll PM them to you personally.**

**Shoutout to Junebug107, hellomynameisek, ilovefood893, scarletmalik, TeenageAvengerSurvivingSchool, androidtracker, and Amanda Lima for following!**

**Best review goes to ilikehats2! Have the anklet!**

* * *

"WHAT THE HELL, STARK?!" Darcy was backed into a corner as Tony advanced on her, wielding his latest version of a Nerf gun. "STARK'S GONE ROGUE! RED ALERT!" Instantly, Tony was tackled to the ground by a blur with a metal arm, Darcy clutching her chest in relief.

"Ow...Barnes...what the hell was that for?" It was Tony's turn to groan, the gun having been pushed into his chest upon being tackled. "Not my fault Lewis was scared as shit." Bucky climbed off of the millionaire, brushing himself off.

"Trust me, that was as unpleasant for you as it was for me," he mumbled, socking Tony in the arm. "The only person I would _ever _voluntarily dive on is Steve." As if on cue, the man himself emerged from the elevator, his jaw falling open at the sight of Tony and Bucky together. Darcy had already fled the room, leaving behind no evidence of what had just transpired.

"Bucky?" was all he managed to get out before Tony scrambled away, screaming in horror. "...what are you doing with Tony?" He'd learned not to make assumptions based on appearances, but this...Jealousy wasn't the problem.

...Steve was just severely confused.

"It's not what it looks like!" Bucky exclaimed shrilly, running into Steve's arms. "I'm not in love with Stark, I swear!" He buried himself into the super-soldier, crying in horror. "You gotta believe me, Stevie, Darcy was here and he was threatening her with a gun and she yelled 'STARK'S GONE ROGUE' and you know it's my job to protect against Stark going rogue and-"

"Bucky." Steve held him at arm's length, chuckling. "Breathe." Bucky relaxed immediately upon seeing the amusement on Steve's face.

"So you're not mad at me?"

"Anyone who would willingly be that close to Tony who isn't Pepper or in a battle with him probably has a deeper meaning," Steve joked. "Especially you. I know you've been holding a grudge since he tried to magnetize your arm."

"I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY!" Tony hollered from his sanctuary in the lab. "METAL MAN, METAL ARM! Like Magneto! And for the record, Barnes, it was a Nerf gun! Lewis was the one that called rogue!"

Steve was silent for a moment, comprehension dawning on his face. "Tony, you'd better not be planning out the schematics for another Nerf gun war," he called to the billionaire. "You remember what happened last time."

"Yes, Natashalie roasted my ass, but it'll be more fun this time!" was the cheerful answer. "I've even gotten Agent and his kids onto this one! Plus Thor's two main squeezes!"

"I HEARD THAT!" came the screech of Darcy, and there was the sound of crashing metal. Apparently, she'd hidden under one of Tony's lab benches, fully intent on staying there until she was needed for something or other. "I AM NOT THOR'S SQUEEZE!" The pair of them tore out of the lab, she holding the Nerf gun as Tony ran for his life.

"Whoa!" Steve caught hold of Darcy as Bucky grabbed onto Tony yet again, sighing internally. "Slow down, Lewis. Get a team together. Then you can hunt down Stark's ass. I'll wave a banner somewhere."

"You're on, Stark," she snarled before running off, most likely to recruit people to her cause. "Your ass will be black and blue by the time I'm done with you."

"No you won't!" Tony shouted after her. "Because I've already made the teams!"

This made Bucky and Steve stop. "You have?"

* * *

"I've created the teams," Tony announced the next morning, as the Avengers and Bus team sat around the large breakfast island. A holographic projection was thrown into the center, various names shuffling around as they landed in various columns. "Each team will have one scientist, one badass motherfucker, one SHIELD agent, and one other. That way, it's all equal."

"Do tell, who defines the _others_?" Darcy drawled. She was still slightly upset over having been called a 'squeeze' earlier, and as a result, was glowering at the man over the table, stirring her coffee.

"People who don't fit in any category," Tony answered, waving a hand dismissively. "Aka you, Capsicle, Thor and Barnes. Now." The names had stopped whizzing around, arranging themselves. "Get acquainted with your teammates. I've got some rules."

**Team 1:** _Melinda May, Bruce Banner, Barbara Morse, Steve Rogers_

**Team 2:**_ Natasha Romanoff, Jemma Simmons, Skye, Darcy Lewis_

**Team 3:** _Clint Barton, Leopold Fitz, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes_

**Team 4:**_Lance Hunter, Jane Foster, Phil Coulson, Thor_

There were several loud groans as couples groaned about being separated, particularly Steve, Bucky, Fitz and Simmons. Thor looked positively delighted about being put on a team with Jane, while Coulson and May accepted their fates quietly. Gave them a chance to kick each other's butts, anyways.

Each group congregated in a corner of the kitchen, Natasha and Skye excitedly discussing how they were to be on a team together. So far, they'd been the only couple to stay together, much to the chagrin of the others.

"I fail to see how this is fair," Clint complained. "The assassin wives get to be together, how come we can't get significant others?"

"Shut up, Barton," Natasha told him, cuddling Skye into her arms. "Or your 'assassin wives' are going to kick your ass. I've been training Skye when she comes to visit. On top of her training with May, I think she and I are on the same level of badassery. So, yes. Don't make us angry."

"You mean it?" Skye inquired quietly of her girlfriend after a moment of silence. "You really mean it?" Natasha pulled her in for another hug, an uncharacteristic gesture that had almost everyone staring.

"Of course." To the others, she threatened, "Say a word and you'll be missing a valuable body part." When Bucky opened his mouth, she continued, "Yes, Barnes. I'll take your arm and your family jewels."

"Okay, rules, rules, rules," Tony cut in before things could get out of hand. "Ten floors, including the Avengers floor, have been designated for the war. No one is allowed to get onto the Avengers floor during the war. Pitch dark. Ball pit. Hall of mirrors. Trampolines. Bumper boats. Ice. The gym. The wine cellar, and the lab." He paused. "Any questions?"

"How many shots until it's constituted an out?" May called from the other end of the table.

Tony considered that for a moment. "Six."

"Do we get real guns?"

"Natashalie, are you serious? You were in the last one and you _still _don't know?"

"You never know," Natasha answered innocently. "In case I want to put a cap in your sorry little ass. Then I might let Darcy and Fitz take a turn, too." Darcy was bobbing her head vehemently. "If not, I'll just make Nerf darts lethal. Is all."

Fitz smacked his forehead. It was going to be a long war.

* * *

**Hour 1**

"You've gotta be kidding me," Clint muttered as he rattled the vent cover, looking to find purchase with it. "This vent door is always open. Who the hell sealed it that so I couldn't get in?"

"I took the liberty of electronically sealing all of the doors, Master Barton," JARVIS told him, his voice echoing through the vents. "Master Stark, before starting the war wanted to make sure that no one, and I quote, 'especially that little shit Barton', would be able to access the Avengers floor."

"Dammit," Clint swore, banging a fist against the vent. "Turn back," he addressed his team. Tony and Bucky let out a groan, both of them having have to have been shoved inside of the vent to barely make it. "JARVIS sealed the vents."

"Hey, J, man, I know I said close them, but do you wanna do us a favor and open the vents?" Tony asked the AI casually. The response was...unexpected, to say the least.

"I am sorry, sir, but I can no longer follow your commands."

Tony nearly banged his head on the vent, along with Fitz, who had a horrified look on his face. "Please tell me this isn't Ultron shit again. I do _not _want to deal with another drone army while stuck in a goddamn vent." He addressed JARVIS. "Who do you follow, J?"

"I am currently set to follow Agent Skye and Agent Romanoff's commands," JARVIS answered. "They were quite...persuasive."

Bucky sighed. "Should've known the assassin wives would pull something like this." He turned to Fitz. "You're going to have to get me out of the vent this time. I promise I'll catch you. Stark's an awful partner for trust exercises, apparently."

"Hey!"

"It's the truth," Fitz muttered as Clint slipped out of the vent, only to recoil in horror as the archer bounced straight back up. "With all due respect, Agent Barton, what the bloody hell?"

"Trampoline floooooooooor!" was all Clint could answer as he plummeted back down. "Just jump, Fitz! And how many times have I told you to call me Clint?!"

"Not enooooooouuuugh!" was Bucky's answer as Fitz smacked him through the vent. "You smacked my ass, Fitz! You should know I'm taken!" The slight scientist only rolled his eyes, snorting at the idea of being with Bucky.

"Does he _know _Simmons and I are a thing?"

"WHAT THE-IT'S A TRAP, STARK, DON'T-" were the only words Fitz and Tony heard before there was a strangled scream, followed by the whiz of Nerf bullets. The war cries of Bobbi and May echoed through the room as the two scientists watched in horror, one of them albeit more in amusement than anything.

"Fitz, man, we need to cut our losses," Tony whispered, making the roundup sign. "If we have any chance of surviving, we need to get out of here before May and Bobbi realize we're not down there." Fitz nodded and began to crawl forwards, only to pitch through a vent opening with a scream. May and Bobbi converged on him gladly, shooting their newest victim, seeing as Clint and Bucky had already been shot _way _past their shot limit.

Tony only paused for a slight moment before cautiously inching his way through the rest of the vents. At this point, it was every man for himself. And for Tony? The best way to survive was to get a drink, he figured. No one would even _dare _to look for him in the wine cellar...right?

Below Tony, May and Bobbi came to a stop, out of breath as they surveyed the three men on the trampoline in front of them, Clint actually sobbing. Bucky was in the fetal position instead, about two seconds away from sucking on his metal thumb, his real one tucked under his body.

"How long you think they'll stay like this?" Bobbi asked May casually, who shrugged while checking the number of bullets in her gun.

"Long enough for Romanoff to kick their asses, I hope," she answered, then addressed Fitz. "See what happens when you skip morning training sessions, Fitz? _Now _will you join us?"

Fitz groaned, feeling the start of several bruises starting to form. "Yes, Agent May." He let out a shout as Bobbi swooped in, presumably to take a selfie with the dazed team. "Come on, Bobbi! Let a man be humiliated in peace, huh?"

"Not a chance."

* * *

**Hour 2**

Creaking open the door to the hall of mirrors, Steve exhaled silently. No sign of Bucky. Good. Although if Bucky found him here, it was possible he'd have an advantage. Steve had always been the one to make it through the hall of mirrors first, leaving Bucky to run into the mirrors, more often than not coming out with a bruise somewhere.

No one else would be foolish enough to come into the hall of mirrors, he figured. Not when there were clearly advantages to be had in other ways. Swiftly making his way to the center of the maze, he sat down, stretching out his limbs for a long wait.

His senses perked up once more when he heard the door open, followed by some cautious footsteps. Whoever was walking in thought they were doing a good job, Steve mused. How well they were _really _doing depended on who they were.

There was a THUD, followed by a whispered curse. "Bloody hell." The timbre was deeper than Fitz's usual Scottish, Steve thought, and it was most definitely not Simmons' voice. That only left Hunter. Not bad for a merc. It was really just too bad he was going up against a super-soldier.

Slowly, he stood up, careful not to let his joints creak, lest Hunter hear that he was there. Really, Steve had nothing against the man, save for his liberal usage of malt vinegar whenever fish and chips were made. Slowly and swiftly, he made his way through the maze, quietly exhaling once he saw Hunter's exposed back. _Should've brought a partner, _he scolded mentally. _Coulson could've worked. _

It was a good thing Bruce had modified his Nerf gun to have a silencer, because it certainly gave him the advantage here. Six darts shot out in succession and landed across the expanse of Hunter's back, Steve running off before the mercenary even noticed who was there.

Although it was kind of evident once Steve ran into a mirror, the panel shattering instead of rebounding him. Hunter was after him in an instant, knowing that there was only one person who could shatter the panels without injury or Hulking out. "Captain!"

There was no reply, only the occasional smashing of panels. Hunter simply followed the super-soldier by the trail he left behind; just because he was dead didn't mean he would go down without a fight.

Steve burst out the other door to the hall of mirrors, and, seeing Bruce, yelled to him, "Shoot the next guy that comes out of that door like hell!"

Of course, the next person to come out was Hunter...

"I'm correct in believing that you can't die twice, right? Once is the limit around here in SHIELD?"

* * *

"Yeah, stay still, Darcy, let us do all the ass kicking so that we can win," Darcy muttered as she paced around the team bunker. "It's easier if you don't get involved." She snorted to herself. "Please, with me, they wouldn't know what hit them!"

Earlier, Darcy had been steered to the bunk by Natasha, Skye and Simmons, stowing here in there under a claim for her own safety. Even Simmons, who screamed at the sight of a rat, was going out into the battle, claiming that 'her science skills could be put to good use'. Now, Darcy could Taser the hell out of almost anything-that had to count for _something_. But noooo-she was stuck here instead, playing the damsel in distress while everyone else got to go kick ass.

It just wasn't _fair_. She could kick ass just as good as any of them. She'd be willing to bet Simmons and Skye couldn't even get through the vents.

_Wait a minute. _The vents.

She could get through the vents.

Darcy sprang into action, grabbing a modified paintball gun Bruce had modified at some point earlier that week. It was now designed to hold ammo with a much larger diameter than a paintball...but where would she get that...?

"_Pitch dark. Ball pit. Hall of mirrors."_

Tony's voice (as annoying as it was) echoed through her head. A ball pit meant lots of little, multicolored plastic balls. Which meant perfect ammo for shooting at people. And since no one expected to see Darcy, she had the element of surprise.

Thank Odin Clint had taught her how to crawl the through the vents last week.

* * *

**Hour 3**

It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

Then again, not like it would've been seen, anyways-it was so dark Coulson was sure Stark had had the walls painted black specifically for this purpose. All caution aside, however, he pulled out his Nerf gun, wary of anyone that might show up. Jane had modified it so that it fired out a higher frequency of rounds, but if he was against someone quick, he wouldn't stand a chance.

As if on cue, a dart flew out of nowhere, landing against the wall inches away from his shoulder. "I know you're there, Phil. So stop acting like you can fit into Romanoff's shoes."

_Or if it was May._

"You know it was only once," he protested, ducking as a barrage of darts came flying at him. "Neither of you are going to let me live that down, are you?" The two of them exchanged rapid fire, although Coulson was more shooting blindly than anything. May was clearly holding the upper hand, as many of her attempts came close to landing on his body. It was his reflexes that were saving him more than anything.

Normally, he considered himself at about par with his girlfriend. So how the hell had she gained an advantage?

"Night vision goggles, Coulson," May scolded as she twisted in midair, avoiding one of Coulson's shots as she let off a few of her own. "It never hurts to be prepared for anything." Darts quietly whizzed around the air, neither of them sparing any breath for words.

Coulson cursed himself for going in alone. Hunter's team strategy had been 'divide and conquer', figuring that if they took out individual targets, it would look less conspicuous. The mercenary had claimed Captain America for himself, leaving everyone else to take their target of choice.

At best, Coulson had been hoping for one of the weaker targets. Fitz, maybe, or Simmons. Even Tony he'd have no shame in taking out. But facing off against Melinda May and coming out as the victor was a hell of a lot more than he'd signed up for. It was like pissing off Natasha if you weren't Skye.

"That's six." May's victorious voice rang out in the still air, and Coulson stopped short, realizing he was firing an empty chamber. "You're dead, Coulson. SHIELD may have brought you back to life once, but I don't think that they're going to do it again." The clicking of her heeled boots was the only sound of her departure, Coulson on the floor feeling dangerously close to crying.

_Damn Hunter and his stupid plans._

* * *

_Ah, look, a victim, _Darcy relished as she scoped out the scene. Bruce was quietly hiding behind the couch, looking desperately like he didn't want anyone to find him. _Too bad all that's going to change. _

She carefully aimed the gun, having made sure that they were all filled with green plastic balls, and fired away.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Bruce leapt up from his spot, letting loose expletives in every foreign language there was. Darcy cackled as she continued to shoot at his moving form, cheering whenever she nailed him in the head. Of course, the scientist looked everywhere but up to find the culprit, believing that JARVIS would have warned him to any intruders.

Eventually, she got bored of shooting at him-and Bruce had taken shelter inside of a cardboard box, anyways. Here was hoping no one found him until dinner that night.

Just then, Natasha slid into the room, pointing her gun as she heard Bruce swearing from inside the box. "Aha! Found you, Banner." In one swift move, the box was flipped off, six darts making their way onto Bruce's chest. "And by the way, that is a _hideous _sweater."

Darcy, who had refilled her cartridge with red balls this time, readjusted her aim and let loose on her supposed teammate, whooping with glee. The retaliation darts Natasha tried to shoot were no use, and was still a walking target for Darcy's ammo.

The best part about this, she mused as she moved quietly through the vents, was that she'd managed to land a hit on the _Black Widow _and lived to tell the tale. She wasn't even sure if Skye had managed to do that yet.

* * *

**Hour 4**

"Bumper boats, Thor?" As far as dates went, this was a little ridiculous, Jane thought. Especially given that it was during an all-out war in the Tower that was definitely going to leave a casualty. "You're going to tip over, babe."

"Fear not," Thor assured her casually, helping her into a boat. "I have become quite adept at driving these contraptions-Captain Rogers and Friend Barnes have willingly put in many hours of practice with me." Jane snickered. Steve and Bucky driving bumper boats was something she wanted to see.

The door creaked open, and the two froze, Jane shrinking in fear when she saw Skye. "Shit, she's going to be out for us now."

But Skye had other plans. "I call an alliance," she proposed, striding down the ramp to the dock. Easily hopping into a bumper boat, she drove over to them. "If you guys promise not to shoot me, I promise I won't tell anyone about that duet you two sang." While Thor and Jane went pale, Skye smirked. "Yes, _that _one. With the Ellie Goulding and all."

"You've got a deal," Jane found herself agreeing hastily before Thor could jump in. "Where the hell did you get that, anyways?"

"Well, well, well," came a drawl, making them all turn towards the door. "Three targets in one place, I see." Steve was standing at the top of the ramp, his gun cocked. "Makes it much easier to secure a victory."

"If you're gonna win, do it like a man," Skye challenged, jutting her chin out at him. "Get on a boat and wage a war."

She was a little less brave when Steve jumped from the ramp into a boat, and hastily revved backwards. "Oookay. Super soldier skills. I got you. Is it too late to consider negotiations? I am up against two Avengers, after all."

"You got into this race, Skye," Steve shrugged as he started his boat, motoring towards her. "Now you'll just have to survive." That was it. Skye put the pedal to the metal as she sped off with a squeak. Thor and Jane were left to be his next victims instead. With one hand on the wheel, Steve leveled his gun at them. "This is almost too easy."

"NOOOOOOO!" With a slow motion roar, Thor leapt in front of Jane, easily taking the bullet Steve had fired at her. The small, neon yellow dart landed on his chest, looking oddly abnormal on his gray T-shirt. With a happy sigh, he turned to Jane, who had a look of half-crazed horror on her face. "You have been saved, my lady."

Unfortunately, what _wasn't _saved was the boat. With an almighty _crash_, both of them flipped over, sputtering as they surfaced. Skye took advantage of the moment to zoom back and fire six shots each at the both of them, then driving away yet again. Steve gave chase, yelling, "YOU CAN BOAT, BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE!"

"NOT IF I CAN HELP IT!" Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Natasha came roaring in on a bumper boat of her own, closing in on the good captain. She pulled to a quick stop to address Thor and Jane-"Hey guys, try not to do it in the water, okay? I'm sure Pepper and Tony have actually done that once."-before chasing after Skye.

She easily flipped into Skye's boat, standing up in the passenger seat as Skye tried to get over the fact that her girlfriend had just _flipped out of a moving boat into another_. But that was classic Natasha for you. When she was feeling more showy, she'd probably jump planes. "Keep driving, Skye!"

"No shit, Sherlock!" Skye retorted, pressing the pedal down harder. Natasha fired off her darts with deadly repetitive accuracy, Steve swearing as he was hit. Eventually, his boat came to a stop, six darts stuck to his face.

"Come on, Natasha! Really? _To the face_?"

"Which is why I shot you there," she quipped back as Skye skidded to a stop at the dock. "You're starting to sound like Stark more and more these days. Must mean Barnes is more lewd than I thought. He ever tell you about that time in Melbourne?" She didn't wait for an answer, the assassin wives running out the door instead.

"EAT BALL PIT, SUCKERS!"

Steve felt his head get bombarded with a multitude of blue balls, all of them bouncing off of his head and landing in the water. One even decided to reverberate off of a dart on his face, causing a slight _twing _before splashing into the water. He sighed.

At least he was stuck here with Jane and Thor.

* * *

"_Attention all, Team 4 has now been eliminated. There are eight players remaining."_

"Seven!" Darcy sang as she re-engaged Bruce from above, shooting him this time with her actual gun rather than his modified experiment.

* * *

**Hour 5**

Cautiously, Bobbi looked around the corner. May had gone off to take on Natasha, seeing as she was the only one who even came _near _the caliber of the Black Widow. Bobbi had opted to take on Skye instead, That way, she'd still at least stay on Nat's good side...right?

"Morse."

That was all the warning Bobbi got before five darts were fired in her direction, and the spy whirled around to see Skye, already sprinting down the hallway that led from the locker room to the gym. "You get back here, Skye-!"

"Try me!"

Growling, Bobbi launched into a full-on sprint in pursuit of the hacker, fully intending to take her down and win, Natasha's girlfriend or not. Her long-legged strides helped her regain the head start Skye had taken, and the two were soon once again trading shots, one hiding behind an overturned table.

"Care to take it into the gym, Morse?" Skye taunted, breaking from her defense at the table. She sped towards the gym door, throwing it open and disappearing into what was seemingly darkness. Sighing, Bobbi warily followed her, switching on the night vision goggles May had given her before the war, advising her that she'd need them. The door shut behind her with an ominous click, and for a second, there was total silence.

With a bright flash, the lights to the gym flared on, temporarily stunning Bobbi, who had just gotten used to her night vision. Two shapes converged on her, and now she knew why Skye had lured her into the gym.

When it was mentioned that she and Natasha did everything together, they literally meant it.

Even if it was a joint attack on one of the best SHIELD agents around. Excluding one half of the assassin wives, that is.

Natasha and Skye moved in perfect synchronization, taking advantage of the situation to each shoot three darts at Bobbi, Natasha taking extra care to tackle her friend to the gym mat. Bobbi, in her confusion, had fired off random shots, hoping to hit either the redheaded spy or her other half.

It turned out that she'd actually let off some accurate shots. She hadn't hit Natasha, per se (Bobbi wasn't a sniper. She was fine with that), but Skye somehow had six darts lined up her front, trailing upwards in a diagonal line that made Bobbi proud.

"You've been shot." The three words were crisp, cool and detached. Skye looked towards Natasha in surprise, Bobbi with an ugly sense of foreboding.

She _really _hoped that she just hadn't made May's job harder.

"Agent Romanoff! Have you seen Skye?" Simmons' panicked voice came over her earpiece. From her place on the ground, Bobbi snickered. If it weren't for Fitz, she was pretty sure Natasha would have to be fighting Simmons for Skye's affection. And Simmons fought pretty hard. Natasha shot the tall blonde a look, barely holding back a roll of the eyes.

"Skye's dead," she answered in a completely deadpan tone, sounding so emotionless Simmons seemed to be silent for a moment before remembering they were in the middle of a Nerf gun war. "She took out Morse along the way, though. We need to regroup. Back at the base in five."

"Yes, Agent Romanoff."

"What have I told you, Simmons?"

"...Natasha."

* * *

As Simmons made her way back to the team base (which fortunately consisted of a lab, a minifridge, and bunkers; Natasha had told them it was wise to constantly be prepared-they didn't know how long this war was going to last), she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following her.

She looked over her shoulder once or twice, and told herself that it was nothing. She really needed to stop watching those horror movies with Fitz late at night. Especially that Paranormal Activity marathon.

But then she heard a _creak_, and this time, she was definitely sure there was someone following her.

"Who's there?" she squeaked out, her Nerf gun forgotten at her side. For some reason, her rationale had abandoned the idea that an _actual _intruder could get into Stark Tower. "I warn you, I'm armed!"

"Your worse nightmare," chuckled the voice in response, and Jemma was immediately assaulted with six darts, which formed a tight circle around her heart. She supposed they were supposed to simulate a shot to the heart. "Sorry, Simmons."

"...s'alright, May. As long as you didn't eat all of the cookie dough ice cream."

"About that?"

"May!"

* * *

_I need a drink, _Darcy decided. Hauling a large paintball gun around was taxing, no matter how easy she made it look. And at this point, she'd need alcohol to keep her aim spot on. One of the plastic balls had flown right over Simmons' head when Darcy had shot at her earlier, almost revealing her position.

She keyed in the combo to the wine cellar; she was one of the few people Tony trusted with the combo, since she was the only one that tended not to get wasted on a regular basis. As the heavy door swung open, she heard the sound of drunken muttering.

_Great. There's a drunk when I need a drink. _

Holding her Nerf gun aloft (it made for indefinitely better aim), she slowly made her way into cellar, moving towards the source of the sound.

Darcy was prepared for pretty much anything-she could Taser the intruder if need be-but she did _not _expect to see a fort made out of wine bottles.

Stark.

"You're still alive?" she wondered out loud. Hm. She would've thought that he would've been the first one to go. Everyone must've been grinding their teeth in frustration to find him, Darcy mused. "How the hell?"

"Because I'm going to win," Tony answered, wielding his Nerf gun at her. Darcy dodged the first shot-it was _very _poorly aimed. She took some shots in return, halfheartedly shooting. All she wanted was a drink! Was that so hard?

"I'll cut you a deal," she answered, exasperated. Tony was curious enough that he lowered his gun. "I'll shoot you, you shoot me, and we can both get wasted. Sound good?"

"Excellent," he replied shortly, and stuck six darts to her ample bosom. "Now it's like you're in that Katy Perry video."

She flipped him the bird, but not before shooting darts at his pecs and his groin area. "I don't think Pepper's going to want to go five feet near you. Maybe a hundred. Hard to tell." She sighed, reaching for the first bottle she saw. A nice Merlot. Excellent. "You got glasses or am I chugging straight from the bottle?"

* * *

"_Attention all, Team 3 has eliminated. There remain two players."_

"Hey, JARVIS, who's left?" Bucky asked, pushing himself to a seated position. Next to him, Clint did the same, Fitz still nursing his wounded ego. "Tell me Stevie's out. I had a bet that he wouldn't make it to the final match."

"Captain Rogers is indeed dead, sir," JARVIS answered in a monotone. "He is currently lying on the bumper boat floor with Master Odinson and Miss Foster."

"Yes!" Bucky did a fist pump. "Take that, Rogers!" he shouted to the vents. "You owe me some guac! And you'd better not skimp on the avocados!"

"How's Tony?" Clint asked. "God forbid it be Stark that's left...but is it?"

"Mr. Stark was recently incapacitated by Miss Lewis, sir. He did the same to her."

"So Team 4 is out with us...and Darcy..." Fitz called to the other two, frowning. "That leaves 1 and 2. Skye would probably make a personal announcement if she was still in, so we have to assume she's dead. We know Steve is dead. Other than that, though, we can't rule out anyone else."

"Let's throw names at JARVIS," Clint suggested. "Works whenever I can't decide on pizza. Let's see...how's Bruce?"

"He was also incapacitated by Miss Lewis."

"Damn, Darcy's got it going on," Bucky whistled. "How about Fitz's other half? Simmons, is it?"

"Miss Simmons is also dead, sir."

"Bobbi?"

"Dead."

"I know who that leaves," Clint sighed. "JARVIS, can you pull up the security feeds? I want to see this." He turned to Bucky and Fitz. "I'm making wagers. This is going to be the fight of the century. And don't forget to record, J. I'm going to need this."

"Who...?" Bucky bugged the archer, who only shushed him.

"Shhhh. You'll find out soon enough." JARVIS threw a live feed up onto a large trampoline, showing the different rooms of the war. Soon, however, it settled on the ice floor. An Asian was stalking towards the door on one end, on the other, an equally determined redhead.

"Romanoff versus May," Ftiz breathed in awe. "No."

"_Yes_," was breathed back at him in response. "I've been waiting for this to happen for so long."

* * *

**Hour 6**

"So." May leaned against the wall, unaffected by the temperature of the ice. "It comes down to this."

"I gotta say, May, I'm not surprised," Natasha replied, equally as cool. "You were the one that took out Simmons, I take it? She never returned back to base."

"And I presume you were the one who shot Bobbi," May shot back. "Accolades to you, Romanoff. You've been trained well." She cocked her Nerf gun, pointing it right at the spy. "But, unfortunately, it's time you met your death."

Natasha glared right back, vengeance in her eyes as she unwaveringly pointed her gun at the elder agent. "I don't think so, Mel."

With that, they were both off, the ice making their movements ten times more graceful. The entire sequence looked like it was choreographed-every time Natasha would land a shot on May, she would receive a shot in return.

"Do you surrender?" May asked, after Natasha had slipped on the ice, losing her footing for once quick second before gracefully recovering. "It'll be a quick and easy death, Romanoff. Painless. Who knows, maybe you'll even see Skye up there."

"Never." Natasha gritted her teeth, sliding on the flat of her feet towards May, shooting bullets that were skillfully dodged. "You can join Coulson in hell first."

"Don't you even dare, Romanoff," May feinted to the left, using her traction to slide to the other end of the room. Natasha followed, only to have to regain her footing when May instead went in the other direction, launching herself off of the wall so that she arced over the redheaded spy, continuously spraying her with Nerf darts. With a spray of ice, the elder agent landed on her feet, brushing herself off. "Six shots. You're done."

"_Attention all, Team 2 has been eliminated. Team 1 is the winner." _

Various cheers could be heard throughout the ten floors, including Steve's. Truth be told, he was _really _starting to hate the water.

Bobbi could only raise a hand in weak satisfaction towards Skye, who was vocally expressing her displeasure through a multitude of swears and gestures. "Knew May would come through in the end."

* * *

"I just wanna know how May beat Nat!" Clint exclaimed to the rest of the group, who was laughing hysterically at his attempt. Neither May or Natasha said a word, but simply gave Clint an amused smirk. "Is that so difficult?"

"What I want to know is how you got taken out by Bobbi," Steve called to him, lounging on a couch with his arm thrown around Steve. "Along with this guy right here. Aren't you two supposed to be _good _at these sort of things?"

"So is Hunter," Bruce ribbed. "I still managed to shoot his ass."

"Yeah, babe, how'd you manage that?" Bobbi chortled, pecking his cheek. "He wasn't even Hulked out." Hunter said nothing, merely grunted and sat back into the couch.

"At least I didn't get tipped over in a bumper boat," he retorted, raising an eyebrow at Thor and Jane. "Mind you, I'm not protecting anyone from darts anytime soon."

"It was a worthy act," Thor protested, only to be met with gales of laughter. "I insist that it was!"

"Alright, fine, Point Break, whatever floats your boat," Tony rolled his eyes, knocking back another glass of scotch. "I still think I had the best strategy."

"Hiding out in the wine cellar?" Fitz asked in disbelief. "Instead of coming back to save us? What kind of team member are you?"

"Not one at all," the rest of the Avengers chorused in unison.

Tony didn't even try to deny it. He just tipped his head in acceptance and tossed back another drink. "I don't play well with others."

* * *

**Read and review...? Please? Pretty please? Best review gets the footage of May versus Nat!**


	36. Hill and Coulson: The Matchmakers

***doesn't even bother with excuses bc it's midnight and I have school. So.***

**Shoutout to Dragekite, Astr-Nik, solareclipse11, and cabalonline526 for following!**

**Best review ties with TeenageAvengerSurvivingSchool and Pikapegasus! THANK YOUSIES!**

**Also, I would love to discuss Ultron with anyone. I am completely ignoring the major plot points and characterizations that were messed up. Thank you! beep beep. **

* * *

"You've _got _to be fucking kidding me."

"Language," Coulson gently chided Hill as he peered over her shoulder, frowning as the bright blue memo in her hands. "A gala? Seriously? Who do they think we are? SHIELD High?"

"We might as well be, with this thing," she snorted in return, plopping into a chair and crumpling the paper in her hands. Sighing, she aimed it at the trash can on the other end of the meeting room, exhaling in frustration when it just missed the rim. "Half of the men around here are too scared to ask the women, and the other half of the women are going to jump the gun."

"I look at it this way," Coulson sighed, tipping back in his chair and putting his feet up on the conference table. "It's a good idea to make good on that betting pool." Hill looked at him in surprise, raising an eyebrow at the idea that he would manipulate such circumstances for his own purposes.

"You think this gala's going to get Rogers and Romanoff together?" she asked, pulling up her phone's calendar. "When's it again? Hunter and Morse are out at the end of the week."

"You've got a week to secure your date, Agent Hill," Fury's voice boomed out as he entered the conference room, wielding a memo of his own. He shot a glare at Coulson, who apologetically took his feet off of the table. "And I suggest you get on it quickly. It's mandatory to have a date." At that, her mouth fell open, eyes going wide. _She _had to get a date?

"Will that be all, sir?" she croaked out, mind already whirring at just who the hell she'd have to ask. Worst came to worst, she'd end up needing to promote one of the junior agents for a date. She'd rather do that than find it in her to ask her one-eyed superior to the gala. Besides, it wasn't like she had _feelings _towards him...no, absolutely not.

"Dismissed, Coulson and Hill." Both of them stood in unison, Coulson elbowing Hill as soon as they were out the door.

"So, when you going to ask Fury?" When he got no response, he goaded, "I could see it in his eye that he wanted to ask you." Hill menacingly glared at him, stopping their walk down the hallway. Undaunted, Coulson went on. "Come on, Maria. We all know you have a thing for him. So just suck it up and ask him already!"

"I am _not _about to ask Nick-" There was an eyebrow raise at the use of the director's first name. "-to the gala, and he is _not _going to ask me." That last fact was more than true. And besides, if by some miracle he did, she was not about to risk her reputation for one dance. "We are both going to have separate dates-"

"What, you going to ask one of the lowly field agents instead? I'm sure they'd jump at the chance to thaw out the infamous Queen Elsa of SHIELD-you know that nickname goes around, Maria-"

"Shut up, Coulson."

"Sorry."

"-and we will _never _speak of this incident again." Sighing, she hefted a stack of bright blue papers from a passing agent, handing half of the stack to Coulson. "I'll handle the agents. You take your teams." With that, Hill was off, leaving a dumbfounded agent in his wake.

"Is this payback for asking about Fury?" he groaned, realizing that he was going to have to get the most stubborn people in the world to attend a _dance_. "Maria?" he called as she stalked away. "Maria? Maria-?!"

"I see you've been assigned the Avengers, Agent Coulson." Fury stealthily appeared behind him. "Remember, I've got a good fifty riding on the 13th. Get Rogers and Romanoff together, will you?" Coulson would have made some quippy remark about getting he and Hill together first, but the director was already down the hall, stopping to terrorize some other agent.

And there was a bigger problem: How the _hell _was he supposed to ask _May _to a _gala_?

* * *

"Phil!" Pepper exclaimed as Coulson and Hill strode into her office, flyers in their arms. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Seeing the grim look on his face, her cheerful demeanor quickly faltered. "What's going on? Are the guys hurt? Is Natasha alright? Is your team alright?" She paused. "Please tell me Skye's all right." The hacker had become a sort of daughter to them all, Pepper especially.

"Relax, Ms. Potts." Coulson reassured her, handing the flyer to the confused CEO. "I can assure you no one's in immediate danger." It was his turn to pause. "Unless somehow something's gone wrong in the last couple of hours we've left them."

"I wouldn't rule it out," Pepper snorted, reading through the flyer. "SHIELD annual gala? I've never heard of this." She set the paper down, giving the two agents a confused look. "What are you giving this to me for?"

"As part of a liaison to the Avengers," Hill answered, "your attendance with a date is necessary." She raised an eyebrow. "Of course, we're all assuming you're going with Stark, but if that's incorrect..."

"Speaking of plans," Pepper interjected, sending a covert glare at Coulson, who hastily backed out of the room. As soon as the door shut, she converged on the second-in-command. "Now. Are you asking Nick? Or is he asking you?"

Hill, surprised by the sudden turn in events, spluttered. "Wh-wh-what?" Struggling to regain her composure, she answered hesitantly, "You know as well as I do that _Director Fury_ isn't mandated to attend the gala." She wouldn't admit it, but the only person that Hill was scared of (aside from Romanoff, but who wasn't?) was Pepper Potts.

"Bullshit," Pepper snorted, getting up from her desk with tablet in hand. Still swiping through it, she addressed the agent. "You may be the matchmaker to everyone else, Maria, but I'm going to matchmake the matchmaker." She tilted the tablet so that Hill could see its screen. "Blue and white. Knee-length. Clear your schedule. We're going shopping next week."

"If you can get Romanoff, I'm in," With a triumphant smirk, Hill was back on top of her game. There was no way in hell Pepper would get her to go shopping. As far as she knew, Natasha would rather date Banner than go dress shopping. "What's your date on the pool?"

"May 22," Pepper answered briskly, tapping some points on her tablet. "Which is now coincidentally the date of the gala." She looked up, raising an eyebrow at the other woman. "Ask Nick. _Do it soon._" Her expression softened. "You might end up with more than you think."

"Can I, Pepper?" Hill asked as she was halfway out the door. "Can I?" The door shut, and Pepper automatically fished out her Starkphone, dialing 7.

"Nat, it's me." she said into the other end of the line. "My office. Ten minutes."

* * *

"What was so important that I needed to be here?" Natasha complained as she fixed her ponytail, some loose red tendrils escaping. "You couldn't have waited until tonight to tell me? We have those meetings for a reason, you know." In response, Pepper slid the gala flyer across the desk to the assassin, who scanned it rapidly. "You want Steve and I to go public at the gala."

"It's the perfect opportunity," Pepper shrugged noncommittally. _And the perfect time to make some money._

"Fitz and Simmons?" The spy's nothing but direct. "Phil and Mel?" A sly eyebrow. "Nick and Maria? You know I've got ten bucks riding on the 30th."

"I don't know about the first two, but I've definitely pushed Maria into starting for the third one," Pepper confided, elbows on her desk. "So. Will you do it? Go public at the gala, I mean." She fished out her tablet once again, swiping through endless pages. "I've already given a thought to what color dress you're wearing-obviously, you can't clash with anyone, so I'm going to go with a gradient-everyone else will be pulling florals and solids, god knows if there's anyone that can pull it off, it's you-"

"Pepper!" Natasha laughed, snapping the CEO out of her reverie. "You're forgetting one important thing. I haven't been asked. I'm the only one that knows about it. You don't see anyone else scrambling for dates, do you?"

"Oh, I'm sure Tony's going to assume we're going together," Pepper snorted, not even looking up. "After all, who _wouldn't _want to go with the great Tony Stark, am I right?" She rolled her eyes. "Men."

"At least he'll ask you in some sort of way," Natasha sighed, fiddling once more with her ponytail. "I don't think Steve's going to ask me. I mean, have you seen how long it takes him to get things like this done? It took him three months to ask me out!"

"Give it time," Pepper advised her friend. "You have to remember that he's new to all of this. Even in the modern world. All of the dates he had before you were set up. I don't think he's ever asked a girl to a dance before."

"All the same, I'll probably end up asking him," she muttered, retying her hair once more, the elastic band snapping into place. "That is, if everyone's not going to try and get us together before the gala." When Pepper looked surprised, she snorted. "Please. I'm a spy. Just what do you think escapes me? I know Fitz and Simmons are trying to whip up a love potion-they're out tomorrow. Mel has her bets on three weeks from now. Even Thor's in on it. He has six weeks."

"Just so you know, Maria's going to try and matchmake you," the CEO stuttered out, trying to recover from the fact that the entire pool had been figured out. "So be prepared. Oh, and also, clear your schedule-she says that if I can get you to go shopping, she'll go."

"Maria going dress shopping?" Natasha's answering grin was absolutely feral. "Even if I didn't need a dress, I'd go just to see Hill shopping."

* * *

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Coulson tried later that night, as all of the Avengers (as well as the Bus team) were assembled in the living room. "Guys? Guys!" Damn Hill for sticking him with this assignment. "Guys, I have something to say!"

That didn't work, so with a sigh, he withdrew his gun, pointed it at the ceiling, and fired off a shot. Everyone quieted in an instant-at least _that _still worked. "I have an announcement to make."

He handed out the flyers, preparing for the onslaught that was to come. _Three...two...one..._

"A gala." May's statement was dangerously short. "We're required to attend a _gala_." Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd already caused himself enough stress this afternoon trying to figure out how to ask May in a way that wouldn't get him killed. And also in a way that didn't come off as romantic. As in love with her as he was, he wasn't ready to die for those feelings just yet.

"With a date," he answered promptly, feeling that that was the best response. The level of awkwardness in the room racheted up three notches as certain couples avoided looking at each other, especially (which he noted with some satisfaction) Natasha and Steve. In fact, the only ones that didn't look out of place were Tony and Thor.

The latter simply glanced across the room at Pepper, nodding. "You're going to the gala with me, right?" The blonde affectionately rolled her eyes, simply accepting the invitation with a flick of her hand before shooting a 'I-told-you-so' look at Natasha.

Thor just laughed happily to himself before picking Jane up in his arms, carrying her to the elevator, she shrieking all the way for him to put her down. "Not cool! Not cool!"

The group sigh was audible. _If only it was as easy for the rest of them as it was for Tony and Thor. _

_I wonder if Fitz will ask me, _Simmons mused. _There's nothing wrong with two people going to a dance as friends. Even if one of said friends has feelings towards the other..._

_There's no way in hell Simmons is going to ask me, _Fitz gloomed. _Why would it be me?_

_How the bloody hell am I going to ask Bob? _was Hunter's exasperated groan. _I can't tell her I've never asked a girl to a dance before!_

_Won't be the first time I've gone solo, I guess. _Clint shrugged to himself.

_Does this mean Tony's going to force me into that purple suit he's been talking about? _Bruce realized in horror. _I got to get Pepper to take me shopping. I look like an eggplant in that suit._

_Would Phil ask me? _It was a very dangerous thought Melinda May was entertaining in her head, but yet, she couldn't help it. _Am I going to have to ask him just to save face?_

_I got to do this perfectly, _Steve told himself. _Nat's counting on me to make the perfect proposal. What if I screw this up? I've never done something like this before. I can't screw this up. I can't. Nat means too much to me to screw this up. _

_God, he looks cute when he's nervous, _Natasha giggled quietly to herself. _But I really hope he does come through with the whole thing. I'm not one for the whole 'will-you-go-to-the-dance-with-me' proposals. Never went to high school. Definitely not about to start now._

It was Skye who broke the silence with her despairing cry. "Who the hell am I gonna go with?"

* * *

"Okay, we got everyone?" Coulson asked Hill hushedly the next morning. Both teams, minus Steve and Natasha, were gathered outside of the kitchen. "We know the plan?"

"Pretend to go rogue, scare the shit out of Stasha, lock them into a closet. I think we know it pretty well," Clint, who was dressed in full battle gear, bounced on the balls of his feet. "Although did we need all of us? It's going to be a pretty hard time convincing them that we've _all _gone rogue."

"Not all of us have," May quipped from the other side of the room. "Only some. The rest are there to 'guide' them to the shelter." She grinned. "I gotta say, I haven't scared the crap out of Romanoff since April Fools' Day of '98." Coulson, Clint and Bobbi winced-they all remembered that quite well.

"Everyone ready?" Skye asked, firing up her ICER. There were various nods from Clint, Thor, Hunter, Bobbi and FitzSimmons, all armed with various weapons. Well, for FitzSimmons, it was more of a chemically modified pepper spray, but a weapon was a weapon. At least, that's what Simmons claimed.

"Let's give 'em hell."

* * *

"Okay, obviously you missed something somewhere, Rogers," Natasha smirked at Steve, who was staring dejectedly at the new coffee maker. "Did you forget to pull a switch? Switch a lever? Or, heaven forbid-" In one fluid move, she pulled open the cover, gesturing to the empty filter inside. "-did you forget to put the coffee beans in?"

"I don't know how I did that," he sighed, reaching above him for the cabinet that held the coffee. In truth, he'd been a little more than preoccupied with trying to come up with the perfect proposal-there just didn't seem to be anything that _clicked _for him. "Sorry, Nat. I'll remember the coffee beans next time."

Suddenly, a bullet came flying right as to where his hand had been a second ago, hitting the coffee maker instead. Both of them turned slowly to the source of the shot, eyes widening to see May, gun aloft.

"May?" Steve asked, slowly putting his hands up. "What are you-"

"I'd follow what he does, Romanoff," Coulson's voice echoed from the other end of the kitchen, "Unless you'd rather see your precious partner bleed to death right before your eyes." At that, Natasha snorted.

"Okay, whoever's idea it was to sent _Coulson _to threaten to shoot Steve clearly hasn't done their homework," she began. "You could never do it, Phil. Shoot your childhood idol? I think you'd sooner rather kiss May."

"Now wouldn't be a good time to practice your sarcasm, Romanoff," Bobbi said from behind Coulson, making the redheaded spy gulp in fear. "So. Hands on your head, or your head can meet the floor."

Natasha's eyes met Steve's, absolutely refusing to show panic, yet panicking at the same time. _Rogue, _she tried to communicate. _What's our battle plan?_

_We fight. _That was one of the things about the two of them-on and off the field, they understood each other perfectly. It was unparalleled to even her working relationship with Clint. Quickly, she nodded, then grabbed a pan, lobbing it at May's head.

Steve sprung into action after her, bullets flying everywhere as the three agents 'tried' to get off a shot at the duo, eventually letting them into the hallway and over to the elevator. As the doors, closed, Coulson, May and Bobbi dropped their demeanors, Coulson even sighing.

"She was right," he groaned. "They should've put me on the relief team."

* * *

"How has this whole entire tower gone rogue?" Natasha demanded as she and Steve ducked down once more, this time to avoid a barrage of fire from Hunter and Maria. "It's like they all planned this!"

"Not everyone's rogue," Skye answered, jumping down from her preconceived place in the vents. She began to return fire, throwing an extra ICER to Natasha-the spy did have her own guns, but she'd prefer not to use them on her own teammates. "And quite frankly, Romanoff, I'm insulted. You really think I'd switch sides that easily?" She threw another one to Steve, who sighed but began to fire, trying to not cheer at the fact that he was actually hitting people. "Go. Closet at the end of the hall. I'll cover you."

They didn't need to be told twice, dashing to the end of the hallway, through the open door and shutting it forcefully before collapsing against it, slightly out of breath. Distinctly, they could hear the sound of a lock clicking, and the sound of high-fives.

A muffled groan escaped Natasha. "I think we've just been set up." She felt around for a light switch, barely containing her laughter at the setup she found. A large, king-sized bed was located in the middle, the blankets a dark red. Various snacks were scattered around the room, a refrigerator even occupying a corner. "And in Stark's bunker, no less."

"Well," Steve answered, stretching. "I don't know about you, but I _really _need a nap." He sent a wink at her, Natasha blushing at the insinuation. He flopped onto the bed, grabbing an edge of the covers and snuggling into them.

She'd never get over how he was a blanket snuggler, Natasha concluded as she slid in beside him, his arm automatically curling around to include her in his embrace. But then again, she wasn't about to tell anyone she loved being a little spoon.

* * *

"You mean to tell me you locked them in my bunker?!" Tony's voice went up three octaves when the team explained the situation to him, only half of them sounding apologetic.

Clint was not one of them.

"Listen, Stark, I have my money put out for the next four days, all right? I'm going to win this damn pool, no matter how hard I have to try. And if that means locking Romanogers into your precious bunker, so be it. No, I don't care if they eat all of your precious snacks, I'll replace them-yes, even the one-of-a-kind Belgian truffle," he answered as Tony began to protest. "I need a win and I'm going to take_ this _win."

Just then, Steve and Natasha emerged from the bunker, looking distinctly ruffled. The team looked at each other in glee, only to have their hopes dashed at their next words.

"Great nap. You really know how to pick your mattresses, Stark," Natasha remarked, stretching. "Pity you couldn't exude the same benevolence on the ones you put into our apartments. By the way," she said to him, "loved that Belgian truffle. Got any more of those?"

"Damn it," May said to no one in particular after they'd left. "I'm out."

* * *

"Friend Banner, I am in need of your assistance," Thor proclaimed later that afternoon, strolling into the kitchen. Bruce was making his daily cup of tea, measuring the tea leaves into his mug.

"Me? Why would you need me?"

"I have been told that an elaborate proposal is needed to ask Lady Jane to this ball," the god began. "I wish to stage a momentous occasion. I do not trust Friend Stark, nor do I feel Friend Barton is worthy for this occasion."

"I still don't see how you'll need me," Bruce answered, looking dubious, "but I'll do it. What is it that you need me to do?"

"Is there any chance you could prevent Friend Stark from leaving his laboratory quarters for the next five hours?"

_Ah. Distraction. _"Well, that's about the only thing I _can _do." Grabbing his tea, he headed towards the lab. "See you in about five hours, man. Make sure you pull this off."

"Thank you!" Steve was the next one to stroll in, and Thor quickly cornered him for his help. "Captain! Could you possibly assist me in my endeavors to ask Lady Jane to the gala? I plan for a romantic picnic on the rooftops. Friend Banner has already been enlisted to keep Friend Stark confined in the laboratory. I require aid to concoct a Midgardian meal."

"Well, since you asked so nicely, sure," Steve chuckled. "What are we making?"

"I have naught an idea."

"Let's go for mac and cheese," he suggested, leading the god to the kitchen. "It's easy to make, and it's still a comfort food." Thor went along with it, nodding like it was what would get him out of the apocalypse. "Okay, I need you to get the spiral pasta and the cheeses out of the cabinet."

"Well, I think we did good," Steve exhaled, wiping a hand on his forehead some time later. In front of both men stood a large, heaping pot of macaroni and cheese, bubbling to the brim with cheesy goodness. Thor gave it couple of stirs, just for good measure, before ladling the entirety of it into thermoses. "Hope she says yes after this."

"I am sure she will," Thor murmured, screwing on the lid. "Lady Darcy has informed me that this macaroni and cheese is one of my lady's favorite foods."

"She'll definitely say yes, then."

"I am off, my friend," he said to the super-soldier, hoisting the large picnic basket in which the thermoses were kept. "Wish me luck!"

* * *

He may have done a lot of things in his lifetime, but asking a lady to a gala was not one of them.

As he approached the rooftop, having set out a lovely red-and-white checkered picnic blanket beforehand, he found Jane already sitting on it, gazing out at the city.

"Well, I have to say, this is surprising," she remarked as Thor sat down next to her, setting Moljnir down beside him. "Any special occasion for this?"

"I would rather we dine before I broach this subject," he returned easily, opening the picnic basket and handing her a thermos. "Then, shall it not go over so well, at least we shall have dined on the fine efforts of the Captain and I."

"The efforts of-Thor, what did you and Steve-_oh!_" Wafts of steam had emerged from the thermos when Jane had opened it, and her face lit up at the sight of the gooey macaroni and cheese. "How did you know?"

"Let's just say it occurred to me." Shyly, Thor handed her a fork, beaming in delight when she dug in enthusiastically. "Does it satisfy you?"

"Satisfy me? Thor, this is the best macaroni and cheese I've ever eaten! Did Steve come up with this?" Jane's mouth was full, cheese sauce splattered on her chin. Never had she looked more beautiful than at the moment, he decided, and opened his own, tentatively tasting it. Flavor exploded into his mouth, resulting in him reaching for another forkful. No wonder this food was highly coveted among Midgardians.

"Aye, he did. He said something about Lady Romanoff reserving the exclusive rights to his recipe. I feel it is unwise to tell her that we have consumed this." A thermos was finished off, and he reached for another, opening it eagerly. Nerves got the better of him, and he set the metal container down gently. Noticing his gesture, Jane did the same, appraising him. "Jane, I wish to ask you about something."

"It's Sif, isn't it?" Her eyes clouded up, and she looked away to prevent herself from crying. "I knew it. I knew it, knew it, knew it," she chanted to herself. "You can keep her on the side if you want. Or me. I know they don't really like me on Asgard since your mother died for me and all."

"No, no, not at all," he murmured, drawing her up into his arms. The sun was setting even lower now, bathing them in golden light. "'Tis not a sad occasion, my lady. Do not cry." He drew her back so that he could look into her eyes. "As you know, the gala of SHIELD is to be in two weeks. Every Avenger is required to bring a partner to the ball." He went down to his knees, holding her hand. "I wish to know if I could have the honor of your company at the gala."

Jane froze, the turnaround a bit too much for her. "You're asking me to the ball?"

"Indeed, I feel that I am."

"You brought me up here, cooked me mac and cheese, and got down on one knee. To ask me to the ball." She burst into tears, happy ones this time, as she brought him back up and leapt into his arms. "Of course. How could I say no?"

"Oh _god,_ we're going to look so bad next to this," Coulson lamented from the living room, where he was watching the conversation with Steve and Hunter. "How the hell are we supposed to beat the rooftop and mac and cheese?"

"Who's having mac and cheese?" Natasha's voice echoed from the hallway. Steve froze, while Hunter and Coulson simply answered in unison,

"Jane and Thor."

Steve just ran for it.

* * *

"You're kidding," Hill exclaimed loudly. "You got Romanoff to go _dress shopping_? She _hates _shopping!" Of all of the things Natasha had to fall through on, it was this one. It was bad enough she was worrying about who to take-now she had to add on an afternoon of dress shopping?

"That I did. Surprised, Maria?" Of course she was. Pepper smirked to herself. Sometimes, there were perks to being privy to every piece of gossip in the Tower. "Now. Two o' clock. Make sure you bring comfortable shoes."

* * *

"I think we're living in the Twilight Zone," Skye remarked quietly, as she, Bobbi, Simmons, Jane and Hill watched Pepper and Natasha enthusiastically shop for dresses. "Never in my life have I seen Romanoff so excited to go shopping."

"There's got to be something that we're missing," Hill agreed. "She _hates _shopping. What does Pepper know that we don't?" She snapped her fingers. "That's it. Pepper must have some sort of blackmail on Nat that we don't know about."

"With all due respect to Agent Romanoff," Simmons piped up, "shouldn't it be the other way around? She doesn't seem like the type to leave incriminating evidence just lying around."

"_Please_," Jane snorted. "I heard her last week singing 'Royals' in the shower."

"You guys better have choices!" Pepper threatened from the other side of the rack, where she and Natasha were currently riffling through numerous dresses. "Or, so help me, I will set the wrath of a sleep-deprived Tony on you."

With a shout, all five of them scrambled for the racks, feverishly searching for _something _that would make them look good. Bobbi was the first one to strike gold, triumphantly holding up a navy blue dress, rhinestones studding up the left side in a line that gradually filled out the heart-shaped neckline. "I think I'm good for the day, ladies."

Simmons was next, holding up a black-and-floral number. The bottom and shoulders were done in floral, with black in between both areas. The flowers perfectly fit her prim English personality, and she grinned in excitement. "Now, if only I could ask Fitz to the gala."

"Why the hell would you do that?" Skye murmured, searching for her own result. "If anything, he should be the one asking you." She held up her selection for judgement, sighing in relief when it passed muster. It was a one-shouldered black dress, with a rhinestone-studded middle belt and a sash-like shoulder. "I'm good. Can I go back to the tower?"

"Help?" It was Jane who was the most surprising, holding up what was easily the most elegant dress of the evening. The sleeves capped at T-shirt length, made of lace which extended down to the waist, where it was met with a slight, black belt before blowing out into a long, turquoise train. Her face peeked out from behind it, apprehensive. "Think I'll be okay?"

"Okay? Jane, you've done the best out of all of us, I think!" Pepper sauntered over, taking the dress from the bewildered scientist's hands. "Simmons, we're taking you out of your comfort zone next time. Skye, why black? Your suit's black already, but seeing as we haven't got time...Bobbi, again, we're taking you out of _your _comfort zone next time."

"I swear to god, Pepper, I'm going to _kill _you."

Hill stepped out in a one-shouldered blue-and-white dress, the strap over her shoulder a pure white before meeting a navy blue chest piece, which intersected a white belt before flowing out once more into the navy skirt. Had she not been scowling, the picture would've been complete.

"He'd be a fool not to ask you," came Natasha's sarcastic remark from her changing stall. "Which I _still _don't understand, by the way."

"I'm not going to do it!" Hill huffed, whirling around to face the spy's stall. "If I do it, it'll look like I'm kissing ass to try and get the deputy director position, which you _know _I don't want. I don't need people thinking that I'm sleeping with my boss to hold my position!" She glared daggers at the stall, hoping Natasha would get the subliminal message. "I'm not going to do it. Point made."

"I still think you should do it," the other woman sighed, nonchalantly emerging from her stall. She'd donned a gradient red and black dress, the top starting from black, cinched by a black leather belt before slowly transitioning into red. Each woman's jaw dropped.

Pepper just sighed and hefted her periwinkle dress over her shoulder. After Nat, there really was no point.

* * *

"May." Coulson stopped just short of colliding with his second-in-command as he rounded a corner. "I've been meaning to find you."

"Have you?" She'd been avoiding him during their stay so far, hoping to _not _have this awkward conversation about the gala, but fate apparently had other plans. "Guess we've just been avoiding each other."

"We need to talk about the gala." And just like that, he was off and running. "You and I both know that we have to bring dates, and I thought it would be a good idea if we, you know, went together. As friends. Because we need to set an example for the team and all, and you know how Fitz and Simmons are with each other, and Bobbi and Hunter are never going to make a move towards each other, and-"

"I'll do it."

"I thought it would just be best if we showed some Bus stability and-wait, what?"

"I said I'll do it, Coulson." The tiniest bit of a smirk showed on her face. "I'll go to the gala with you. As friends. It'll be fun."

"Really?" His face lit up like a kid on Christmas. "You will? Thanks, May!" He dashed off, trying to restrain himself from cheering. It didn't happen. "I'M GOING TO THE GALA!"

* * *

"LANCE HUNTER!" For the first time in four days, Bobbi spotted her elusive boyfriend vanishing around a corner, and immediately gave chase. "YOU COME BACK HERE!" Hutner's screams could be heard as he ran down the hallway, Bobbi on his heels.

Unfortunately, he hit a dead end, backing up against the wall as Bobbi stalked up to him, murder written in her eyes. "You've been avoiding me all week. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I have been?" Hunter desperately looked everywhere, trying to avoid Bobbi's glare. "I think we keep missing each other, Bob, I haven't been avoiding you, you see-"

"You're avoiding me, Hunter." Her hands were planted on her hips, never a good sign. "What's going on?"

"See, there's this matter that I had to get tied up, and I didn't really know how to-" At her continued glare, he broke. "Fine! It was about the gala, and I had no bloody idea on how to ask you!" He threw his hands up in the air. "As a matter of fact, I _still _don't!"

"All you had to do was ask," Bobbi scoffed, albeit slightly softer. "I'm not one for big proposals, Hunter. You know that. I saw what Thor did for Jane. And I'm pretty sure Coulson asked May over an almost-collision in the hallway. It doesn't have to be that hard."

"How was I supposed to beat _Thor_?" Hunter pleaded, gesturing wildly. "He used _mac and cheese! _And the bloody _rooftop_! If that doesn't damage a guy's ego, then I don't know what does!"

"Just cut to the chase," Bobbi sighed. "Are you taking me to the gala or not?"

"Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Bob?"

"I thought you'd _never _ask."

* * *

_Shit, no, there's Fury._ Hill's footsteps quickened as she tried to hurry to her office, attempting to avoid Fury's line of sight. She'd been doing this all week, even going so far as to call in sick for a day just to shave off a day of avoiding him. And she _never _called in sick.

It really did show how desperate she was to prove her own independence.

"Agent Hill."

_And there we go. _She sighed quietly, turning around to face her boss. "Yes, Director?"

"Do you happen to have a date to the gala next week?"

_Was he asking her? _Her mind threw itself into overdrive, despite all of the training she'd done. _Was he seriously asking her? _"No, sir. Why do you ask?" _He couldn't seriously be asking her. _

"I think it would be in SHIELD's..._best _interests if we were to attend it together," Fury began, looking her dead in the eye. "After all, with all of our best agents in party wear, security detail's going to be a little short. I need someone with me to make sure things don't go awry."

"We all know that just means Stark." She rolled her eyes, remembering what Tony had pulled at the last party. It'd taken a good chunk of money to pay off all of the public defenders. "I suppose I'll have to accompany you to the gala then, it seems."

"It would please me immensely if you did."

Around the corner, Tony did a fist pump. "Pay up, suckers. I win."

* * *

"Okay, this is all we've got," Coulson said to Hill, as Steve and Natasha gathered in the kitchen, an eerie reminiscence of their first attempt. Minus all of the firearms. "We fail this, everyone's officially out. Except Pepper, but that's never going to happen." He sighed. "Ready?"

"Ready."

Both of them charged in, proclaiming loudly about needing to talk to the couple separately. "I swear to god, Natasha, it's important." "Captain Rogers, I really need your opinion concerning a mission."

Steve and Natasha barely had time to shoot each other confused looks before allowing themselves to be dragged out of the room against their wills.

"What's this about, Coulson?" Steve asked, genuinely concerned.

"This had better be good, Maria."

Just like they'd planned, Coulson and Hill shouted in unison, "JUST ASK HIM/HER ALREADY!" Then, in the ensuing silence that followed, they took the time to run like hell towards the elevator, jumping in and heading downwards before Steve and Natasha had realized what they'd done.

Slowly, Steve peeked around the corner to see a shocked Natasha. "Nat?"

"I was kind of hoping you'd ask me, you know."

Her sentence was short and direct, and guilt washed over Steve as he stepped into the room. Natasha was avoiding his gaze, drawing into herself. She showed no change as he came closer, not even relenting when he drew her into his arms.

"I would have. I really would have."

"Then why didn't you? Why'd you make mac and cheese for Jane and Thor? You know I love that stuff!"

"It was Thor, Nat. You know how clueless he is about cooking."

"Yeah, well, you're clueless about asking people to dances, it seems."

"Then by all means, let me rectify that." Without another word, Steve ran out of the room, leaving Natasha utterly confused as to what had just happened. She got her answer a minute later then the PA clicked on, Steve's voice crackling over the system.

"Hi, everyone. Sorry to bother your day. I'm Steve. In case you didn't know. And I'm here today to ask a certain someone a very special question.

A few years ago, I had no idea where my life was going. All I knew was the job. I didn't know how to slow down. Where to stop. When to stop. I think I was pretty close to self destructing, actually." He paused. "But then I met a gal who made me stop and think about life. What I was missing. She gave me everything without asking anything in return. And every single day of my life, I wake up thankful to have her. Which is why I'm here. I've done a crappy job of dance-posals, so here's my best attempt. Natasha Romanoff, would you go to the SHIELD gala with me?"

"GODDAMMIT, ROMANOFF, SAY YES!" Skye.

"I THOUGHT YOU'D SAID YES ALREADY!" Pepper.

"WAIT, THEY'RE TOGETHER?!" The shocked gasps of the rest of the teams could be heard, even out of range of the PA.

"What happened to telling each other everything, Nat?!" Clint's sad wail could be heard from two floors down.

"So...Nat? What do you think?"

From nowhere, Steve emerged holding a large bouquet of roses, a shy grin on his face. Natasha's hand flew to cover her mouth, barely bothering to conceal her gasp. She was speechless. She could've said yes in a dozen different languages. Luckily, he interpreted her silence correctly.

"Is that a yes?"

"...in every language."

* * *

**POINTS FOR THE REFERENCE. I swear, I'm going to try to be better about these. I swear. Read and review? Please? I know that not a lot of people are going to see this one, but...please?**


	37. Romanoff's Psychology Hour

**So. Guess who survived AP exams?! WOOOT. Anyways, I hope to be back full force soon. **

**Shoutout to Black' Victor Cachat, hailhaleybear, JoannaHennet, EmmaJarrett, IsabellaRomanoff1997, Wolfshark, Eira Lloyd, j-reverdi, , and K. S. Briones for following!**

**And thank you so much to Joanna Hennet, who had the best review, and also for writing it on a day when I was pretty down. Have a bowl of mac and cheese!**

* * *

The knock was timid, a barely there sound that made Natasha almost neglect it. But there it was once more, and this time, she was sure she wasn't hallucinating. She sluggishly got out of bed-curse Steve for wearing her out last night-and shuffled towards the door.

To be perfectly honest, she couldn't imagine who was at the door. Pepper, maybe, to ask her once more if she _really_ going to wear those shoes with her dress. (Her Converse were perfectly fine with the gradient, thank you very much. She liked those sneakers-there was nothing wrong with wearing them to a gala.) Hill, maybe, to freak out about taking Fury to the gala. Possibly May, although she couldn't imagine her showing any emotion over the possibility of she and Coulson.

"Simmons?"

Okay, _that_ one she hadn't expected.

Natasha swing her door wider to allow the scientist in, and Simmons scurried past her, as if afraid she was going to get caught going into Natasha's apartment. "What's going on?"

"I was-I was wondering-that is, if you wouldn't mind-you see, it's-I can't-I don't-" Simmons was clearly struggling to get the words out, having gone through about three different shades of red during her stuttered explanation. She hung her head abashedly in front of the spy, who was struggling not to laugh. "I need your advice, Agent Romanoff."

Natasha's green eyes sparkled with mirth, but she managed to tamp down her laughter. "What's up, Simmons?"

"It's Fitz," she exhaled frustratedly, tipping her head back in annoyance. "He hasn't asked me to the gala yet." Her voice grew small at her next admittance. "And I don't want to be the only one there without a date, _especially_ when I know he wants to take me as much as I want to take him and I already bought my dress and I don't want to be the pitiful one and ask him because that really would make me look awful-"

"Just ask him." Natasha frowned at the meek scientist. At the inquisitive look on Simmons' face, she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Jemma. Really. This isn't the 1920's. Or the 1800s. It's not going to kill you or make you look bad if you ask him. It all depends on whether you're willing to do it."

"Well, of _course _I am, I'm not some prissy little American who's willing to sit around for their entire life while they're waiting for a knight in shining armour to come and gallantly ask them to something as paltry as a dance-" Simmons caught the look on Natasha's face and fell silent. "I'm doing it again, aren't I? Fitz says I've got to learn to get it under control."

"No, no, it's quite refreshing," the spy smirked. "You're talking to the one who's wearing Converse to the gala. Honestly? I'm annoyed everyone else had to wait for their guys to ask them. Except Thor and Steve. Because really. You can't dissuade those two from a good proposal."

"What am I going to _do, _Natasha?" Simmons moaned, looking on the verge of screaming. "Even if I _were _to ask him to the gala, how in the hell would I do it? It's not like I can cook up a giant batch of mac and cheese-it's not like Fitz likes that anyways, it's more of a prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella, small bit of pesto aioli-but that's beside the point!" She threw her hands up. "How am I supposed to top Thor?!"

"You don't have to," Natasha's voice was soothing yet determined at the same time. "The guys are in their own element. You've got your own. Besides, they've been doing this for years. Of course they have more practice." She gave an elegant shrug. "Think about it, Simmons. What do you and Fitz both like?"

"Running away from May's juice cleanses?" When Simmons received a shake of the head, she tried again. "Running away from Bobbi and Hunter?" A snicker and another shake of the head. "...Skye?"

"Come on, Simmons. There's a reason the entire Tower calls you FitzSimmons."

"Right! Science!" Once she got the answer right, Simmons' face lit up like Thor whenever he found a specialty Pop-Tart. "You're saying I should ask him with science?"

"I would be disappointed if you didn't," Natasha snorted. "There's plenty of ways you can ask with science. Blow something up. Make a fungi. Get a DWARF to do it or something, I don't know?"

"That's it!" Simmons exclaimed, suddenly inspired. She headed for the door, her face bright. "I know what I'm going to do!" Just as the door shut, her voice could be heard from down the hallway. "Thanks, Natasha!"

* * *

"-still don't know what the bloody hell I'm going to do, mate," Hunter's agitated voice could clearly be heard around the corner as Natasha stepped off of the elevator into the living room. "The gala's this weekend, and it's already Thursday. I can't mess this up. Bobbi would kill me if I did."

"Personally, I'm still surprised that she hasn't had your ass on the couch for not asking her to the gala," Skye could be heard snorting as Natasha rounded the corner, seeing the two of them sprawled out on the rug. "Hey, Nat. What's kicking?"

"Your need for a date to the gala," Natasha retorted as she gracefully plopped down beside them. "I heard that's _way _up. Apparently you tried to ask that poor guy down in Admin. I think he's recovering nicely." Skye scowled at her, aiming for a punch in the arm. "And Hunter," She turned the merc, who had a nervous look on his face. "What's this I hear about a proposal?"

"_How did you even hear that?" _Hunter's voice had dropped to a whisper, knowing that Bobbi could be anywhere at any given time. "And keep your voice down! I don't want Bob to know." His face showed the pleading of a desperate man. "You've gotta help me, Romanoff," he begged. "I gotta do this right."

"What is with everyone in this Tower calling me Romanoff?" she muttered, reaching for a notepad and pen on the coffee table behind her. "I swear I've told them all at least once to call me Natasha. Especially FitzSimmons. I don't even know what's going on with those two." Pen poised, she looked at Hunter expectantly. "Start with what you've got, and I'll go from there."

"I've got a speech written out," Hunter began hastily, fishing a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and handing it over to Natasha. Skye peered over her shoulder as the spy examined the handwritten speech, silently amused at all of the heavy crossouts and side comments. "I know it's not much, but..."

"It's a good start," Natasha admitted, refolding it and handing it back over. "Did you have any idea on how you were going to read it?" There were a couple of ideas whizzing around in her mind, one of them including a grand speech following one of Tony's debacles that was sure to have everyone's attention. "Please don't tell me you're going to avoid Bobbi until she gets it out of you. That would suck."

"I was thinking about making it on the gala stage," Hunter answered nervously. "You know, have Stark introduce me and all that. Although it's kind of hard to upstage Stark at one of these things." He worriedly unfolded and refolded the paper in his hand. "At least I can't get upstaged by someone making a last-ditch attempt to secure a date."

"I've got it!" Skye exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. Both Hunter and Natasha turned to look at the hacker, who now had excitement brimming in her dark, brown eyes. "Okay, so here's how it's going to go. You," she turned to the merc, who was leaning forwards in anticipation. "are going to pretend to lose Bobbi in the crowd at the gala. Chances are that there are going to be a _lot _of people there that we don't know. It'll be easy. I'll keep Bobbi distracted, since I'll have nothing to do for the night anyways." There was a scowl on Skye's apparent lack of date once again. "You'll appear on stage, asking for Bobbi, since you've apparently seemed to have lost her. 'Tall, blonde, striking blue dress ringing a bell for anyone? Please? There's something I need to tell her.' And once she shows up, asking you what it is, you're gonna rock the hell out of that speech and propose!" Skye finished with a flourish, leaving the other two quite impressed. "Huh? Huh?"

"That's amazing, Skye," Hunter beamed. "I don't know how I didn't think of that before!" Skye just jostled him gently in the side before getting to her feet.

"That's cause you're a man, Hunter," she answered, sending a smirk to Natasha, who was also getting to her feet. "You men don't typically think outside of the box like this anymore. I wouldn't take it too harshly. At least Natasha didn't laugh at your groveling."

As Hunter went off to memorize his speech, Natasha couldn't help but feel like she'd somehow stepped into Pepper's 'mother hen' shoes. It wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to-but she could get used to it. _Now. Gotta find Skye a date..._

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no, this is _not _Romanoff's Psychology Hour," Natasha muttered as she saw the extremely long line of agents gathered outside her door. "What the hell?" she shouted down the line, causing all of the agents to freeze and slowly turn around. She gave them all her patented death glare-they couldn't know she was suddenly stepping up and showing compassion. "Get the fuck out! And how did you all even get past security, anyways?!" The agents scattered for the elevator, save for one, who just stood there as Natasha stormed up to her door, still playacting for her own sake.

"You," she snapped at the lone figure, inserting her keys in. "You feel like risking your life or something? That's the only explanation as to why you're still here." She stopped when the person behind her spoke up, in a dead quiet that nearly matched her own.

"'Romanoff's Psychology Hour'? Have to admit, I haven't heard that one before," May answered, as Natasha guiltily turned around. "Do tell, does the invitation to 'get the fuck out' pertain to people who trained you? Because somehow, I'm not sure they'd take that as well as other people would."

"Sorry, May," Natasha sighed, swinging the door open and letting the senior agent in. "I've been giving out advice to Simmons and Hunter. Thought one of them had blabbed to the rest of the agency." As it swung shut, she faced her mentor with an appraising look on her face. "Now. How can I help you?"

"What makes you think I came here for your help?"

"May. You're _here_. You're not beating the shit out of something. You're not wailing on your agents. You're _here, _talking to me after being willing to wait in line with all of the lower level slime. Don't tell them I said that," she tacked on as an afterthought, fishing for a bottle of sparkling juice out of her refrigerator. "You need help."

"I don't trust Maria or Pepper to take me dress shopping." That was May, blunt as usual. Natasha looked unaffected, taking a sip from her glass instead.

"You want me to go dress shopping with you." May looked almost unabashed as she nodded. "And you're completely aware that I plan to wear sneakers with my dress. That's the kind of person I am." If that surprised her, she didn't show it. "And you _still _want to go dress shopping with me."

"Like I said. I don't trust Maria or Pepper. And I know you hate dress shopping, but I thought given the most recent development in the Tower..." Natasha nodded, setting her glass in the sink. She went to pick up her keys from the hallway, slipping on a pair of flip-flops.

"Come on. I've got to go pick up one of the SI credit cards, and then we'll be off. Tell me what your dress size is again?"

* * *

May was _really _starting to regret asking Natasha to go dress shopping. The redheaded spy had indeed lived up to her code name on the street, being absolutely thorough with her shop choices. For the two of them, there was no limit on where they could shop-being fluent in several languages helped. For that reason, Natasha had dragged May all around the city, merely grunting in dismissal when none of the boutiques on Fifth Avenue had turned up anything. However, they _had _turned up some handy pairs of heels and blazers that neither of them hesitated to snap up, even nearly getting into a fight with a couple of fashionistas.

But finally, here they were, in a hole-in-the-wall shop that Natasha had somehow managed to remember the name of after 13 years, standing in their fitting room. May had to admit, the Russian had taste when it came to dressing people. She wouldn't debate how she'd gotten that knowledge, though. She stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at her reflection. The dress Natasha had found was a hodge-podge of colors, a bold declaration that was almost like May herself. It started as a form-fitting tank-top, multicolored stripes branching out into a flowery cincher before flowing out into a long skirt, blues, reds, oranges and greens that somehow created flowers, but at the same time didn't make it seem too feminine. Interspersed with white, it made it seem like May was wearing an artist's canvas-but tastefully done.

"I think we've got it," Natasha answered casually, careful not to inflict any emotion into her voice. If she was at all excited, it would bring her reputation down for good. But at the same time, she didn't want to come off as totally opinionless. "Phil's going to be speechless."

"I hope so," May sighed, carefully shrugging out of it. She threw her T-shirt and jeans back on, placing the dress back on its hanger. "He's been alone for too long, Nat," she admitted, turning to face her friend. "It's killing him." Natasha remained quiet, allowing her friend to let out her confession. "It's killing me watching him." May's eyes drifted downwards to the floor. "Is it bad that I want to be by his side?" she asked no one in particular. "Is it bad that I'm still feeling, after all of the things I've done in my life?"

"No." The word quickly escaped Natasha's mouth, and she pursed her lips, as if trying to forget she'd ever uttered something of the sort. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with that." She paused again, hesitating on whether she trusted May enough with a breach of her reputation. "If you're not feeling, Mel, there's something wrong."

May examined her student, who'd gone through unspeakable hell even before they'd met. With what Natasha had seen throughout her life, one would expect her eyes to be dead. But they were quite the opposite; in fact, they absolutely _sparkled _with vitality-the vitality that only love could provide. And _oh, _how May wanted to have that sparkle in her eye. Steve had done wonders for her, it seemed. "He's changed you, hasn't he?"

"He has," Natasha answered, quietly smiling. "He really has."

* * *

"Nat?" Steve sleepily muttered as he stretched out an arm for his girlfriend, confused when he didn't find her next to him in the bed. "Nat, where are you?" Slowly, he opened his eyes to find the mattress empty, Natasha's presences replaced by a solitary post-it note. He grabbed the square note and held it up to his face, squinting slightly at the blue piece of paper. _"Roof. You're in for a long overdue lesson."_ The note wasn't signed, simply embossed with a flower in the corner. Groaning, Steve stumbled out of bed, combing his hair into what he hoped passed for decent condition.

"About time," came Natasha's voice as he emerged onto the sunlit roof, her back to him. Surrounding him were flowers of every kind. Some were potted, others hanging from a trellis she'd set up overhead. She was situated on a wooden bench in the middle of it all, wearing a dark, olive dress with a braided leather belt cinched around her waist. "You realize how late you woke up this morning? I think even Stark's even up by now."

But Steve was too awestruck by the arrangement of flowers, especially the trellis. He was _sure _they hadn't been there yesterday. Not when there'd been a pouring rainstorm that had had even Thor shaking his head at the weather.

_Had she really done all of this while he was asleep?_

"Not that I don't appreciate the occasion, but..." he began, not sure whether she'd kill him or not for it, "just what exactly's going on, Nat?"

She stood in one fluid motion, walking over to him. Steve took the time to observe her body language-this wasn't one of her games, as far as he knew-and found it open, relaxed, but slightly apprehensive at the same time. Natasha came to a stop in front of him, looking right into his eyes. "You once told me you had a date," she began. "Peggy was going to teach you how to dance." He kept his expression neutral, as so not to accidentally offend her.

"And I still don't." He tried to shrug it off, but the thought occurred to him that he was _actually _going to have to dance at the gala. "I just figure I'll do the best I can and try not to step on your toes, right?" Instead of answering, she took him by the hand and led him into the center of the flower arrangement, flitting off to a control panel on the side. When she returned, the beginnings of a guitar intro were streaming out of the Tower's sound system.

"Just listen to the song," she advised solemnly, her tone holding a gravity he'd never seen. "Just listen to the song."

_Take my hand_

_Take a breath_

_Pull me close_

_And take one step_

As he pulled her in closely, he could hear her singing under her breath. He took a step backwards, then sideways, and suddenly, they were dancing. Startled, he almost messed up the rhythm, Natasha's emerald eyes boring into him and grounding him to the earth.

_Keep your eyes_

_Locked on mine_

_And let the music_

_Be your guide_

They were doing more than just the simple waltz now, as Steve twirled Natasha in a circle, a radiant smile illuminating her face. It was amazing how the whole thing really was effortless when the right person was in front of you.

_Won't you promise me_

_That you'll never forget_

_To keep dancing wherever we go next_

_It's like catching lightning_

_The chances of finding _

_Someone like you_

_It's one in a million _

_The chances of feeling_

_The way we do_

_And with every step together_

_We just keep on getting better_

Steve suspected that, if they had been normal, they would've figured out that they danced well together long before figuring out that they fought well together. But at the same time, if they'd been normal, it was likely they wouldn't have found each other.

_So can I have this dance? _

_Can I have this dance?_

_Take my hand_

_I'll take the lead_

_And every turn_

_Will be safe with me_

He hadn't realized she'd been leading this entire time, but once she handed the reins over to him, the shift in control was apparent. It was no less fluid, though, and the couple went on dancing just like they had been before.

_Don't be afraid_

_Afraid to fall_

_You know I'll catch you_

_Through it all_

Natasha squealed in delight as she was dipped, her long tresses almost brushing the edge of the rooftop. She came back up to see Steve's face, full of unspeakable joy as he completed the maneuver with a twirl, the two of them coming right back into their standard hold.

_And you can't keep us apart_

_(Even a thousand miles can't keep us apart)_

_Cause my heart is wherever you are_

This time, both of them knew what was coming, and Steve didn't hesitate to sing along quietly with her, the two of them creating a duet that only they would remember. (That, and Stark's security cameras, but they could always download and erase the footage later, right?)

_Oh_

_No mountain's too high enough_

_Ocean's too wide_

'_Cause together or not_

_Our dance won't stop_

_Let it rain, let it pour_

_What we have is worth fighting for_

_You know I believe_

_That we were meant to be_

_It's like catching lightning_

_The chances of finding_

_Someone like you_

A sudden rainstorm appeared out of nowhere, blending with the sun to create a weather phenomenon; Steve and Natasha didn't flinch, only kept dancing through it all. It was a sign of _them, _of who they _were_: a sign that they would be together, no matter what.

_It's one in a million _

_The chances of feeling _

_The way we do_

_And with every step together_

_We just keep on getting better_

_So can I have this dance?_

_Can I have this dance?_

They stopped, breathless, as the song ended and rain came down in torrential downpours, the sun somehow still shining through. Both of them were soaked to the bone, however, it didn't seem to matter much as Natasha gathered Steve in for a long kiss. "I love you, you know."

"Ah," Thor muttered from his view at the living room window. "Good to know that storm was good for something other than watering those poor plants."

* * *

The gala was in full swing by the time Bobbi and Hunter arrived, having been set back thirty or so minutes by a...compromising incident in the elevator. ("Let's not mention that to the dear captain, yeah?" Hunter had muttered. "Wouldn't want to corrupt the poor man.") He'd immediately excused himself upon arriving to go get drinks, leaving Skye to swoop in on an unsuspecting Bobbi.

"Don't look now, but I swear the level 3s in the corner are giving you the stink-eye," she muttered, handing the blonde agent a drink. "I don't blame them. I'm pretty sure half of them tried to ask Hunter to the gala before he wised up and asked you." Bobbi just laughed at her friend-it was obvious Skye was already slightly drunk.

"Skye, how many drinks have you had?"

"Not enough that I'll need one of the anti-wasted pills Stark has," Skye giggled, listing to the side a little bit. "And I'm still plenty sober enough to do my job. Ooh, Steve!" Suddenly, she looked over at the good captain, who was dancing a tango with the Tower's resident redhead. "Damn, but doesn't he look fine tonight!"

"Wow, you're wasted," Bobbi muttered, latching onto the junior agent so she wouldn't lurch off in his direction. "Apparently inebriated enough that you're willing to get your ass kicked by Romanoff." Silently cursing the strength of Stark's alcohol, she sent a warning look over to Natasha as she let Skye go, hoping to God the signal had been received.

There was no denying the smirk she received in return.

"Steeeeeeeeve!" Skye slurred, all but launching herself into his arms. Steve looked every version of surprised, sending Natasha a desperate glance. She only shrugged nonchalantly in return, grinning at him as she stepped away and over to Bobbi.

"Well done," was the appraising remark from the other woman. "I'm pretty sure Steve's going to be traumatized in the morning." The two spies watched as the music launched into a raucous rap song, colored strobe lights flashing accordingly. Skye grabbed Steve's hand and started dancing with him in ways that would normally embarrass such company.

"Yeah, well, I think he needs it anyways," Natasha's voice was tinged with amusement as she quirked an eyebrow at the unconventional duo. "Where's Hunter? We were waiting for the elevator for quite a while."

Instantly, Bobbi's face morphed into a scowl. "I wish I knew. Bastard ditched me as soon as we got here. Drinks honestly shouldn't take this long," she ranted to Natasha. "Unless he's doing body shots, which I will _thoroughly kill him for_." As if in reply, her batons, cleverly disguised as chopsticks in her hair, crackled threateningly.

Natasha frowned a bit-this really hadn't been part of the plan-but stopped when a sight caught the corner of her eye. "I think he's doing a good deed," she murmured to Bobbi, motioning to the far right. Bobbi followed her gaze, squealing at what she saw. "I thought he'd asked her already."

Hunter was dancing with a delighted Simmons, while Fitz scowled in the corner, looking like he had half a mind to beat the mercenary senseless with the nearest blunt object he found. "On a scale of one to Romanoff, how jealous do you think he is?" Hunter muttered to Simmons, who simply laughed.

"I'd say he's worse than Romanoff," she joked, casting another glance at her surly partner. "You should have seen the time he met my first boyfriend." To any outside observer, it looked like the two of them were exchanging intimate, inside jokes.

This was _exactly _what it looked like to Fitz, and the green tinting his vision wasn't helping his rationale. A small part of him wondered if this was what Dr. Banner saw every time he transformed into the Hulk, but he pushed that aside. This was bloody _Simmons _they were talking about. _Why Hunter, of all people? He's too old. And ugh, would you look at that facial hair! He's going to give anyone burns as soon as he touches them! Bloody inside jokes. She'd better not be telling __our__ jokes. They're ours, dammit. _

"I can't take this anymore," the scrawny scientist muttered. He marched over to where the couple were beginning to start a foxtrot. "_You,_" he emphasized while 'forcefully' wrenching Hunter and Simmons apart (Hunter had really gone easily, grateful for the distraction-he'd been on his way to the stage when he'd seen the scene-FitzSimmons getting together was too good an opportunity to pass up). "are not allowed to dance with him."

"What's gotten into you, Fitz?" Simmons cried, not noticing that Hunter had slipped away. "First you avoid me all week, and now you're mad that I was dancing with Lance? What did I do to you that's got you so riled up?"

"Oh, so you two are using first names now," Fitz retorted back, crossing his arms. "I didn't know you two were on that level of personal. Tell me, Jem, does anyone else know his first name? Besides Bobbi?" (Honestly? She'd only learned it during the last dance.)

"So _what _if I know his first name?" Simmons argued, feeling helplessly confused. "It's not like he's my date to the gala or anything. I don't even have one!" She decided to go big or go home while she was ahead.

"You know, Fitz, I've been wanting to ask you all week!" she shouted. "But you're so damn complicated that every time I tried to corner you, you kept on running away! When the gala first came up, yes, I thought you were going to ask me. And when it became clear that you weren't, I was going to!" She let out a half-scream of frustration. "I asked _everyone_ I knew to help me-I even went to Agent Romanoff, okay? That's how desperate I was. And to have you running away all week? Do you know what that does to a girl?"

"Simmons." Fitz was in pure shock. "You asked _Romanoff _about dating advice?" Because really, his mind was still attempting to process the fact that _she _would've asked _him_, knowing how he was on dances and asking women to them.

"Sure," Simmons snorted, close to crying. "I give you that entire speech and _that's _what you come up with." He stared at her in wonder, looking absolutely beautiful in that floral dress of hers, and decided there was only one thing to do.

He pulled out his ICER and shot at the window.

Instantly, every agent turned a weapon on him. Fitz froze, his gun still in the air. He hadn't expected _this _reaction. Everyone was quiet, not wanting to breathe a word to the potential HYDRA traitor in the room. "Hi, everyone," he began nervously. "Um, I think we can all put our weapons down. I'm SHIELD. I'm Leo Fitz, in case you didn't know? I do have something to say, however, so if I could have your attention?"

There was a gradual lowering of various guns, knives, and in Bobbi and Natasha's case, both.

"This woman here," Fitz began, gesturing to Simmons, "was the greatest blessing to ever come into my life. We went through the Academy together, through field training together (even though I'm pretty sure my head was in the sand when she pulled me into that one), and through hell when that cell landed at the bottom of the ocean. And yet, she's still here. Next to me." He pulled her next to him, holding up their entwined hands. "And I would just like to take the moment to declare that she's _my _date. I didn't ask her before because I was a stuttering fool, but I hope this makes up for it." Having run out of words, he squeaked out, "Thanks?"

For a moment there was silence. Then, from the back of the room, May started slow clapping. Coulson joined her, and it wasn't long before the entire room joined in. The claps soon grew to include the occasional cheer, and Hunter even let out a loud whistle. "FITZSIMMONS FOR THE WIN!" As the hubbub subsided, Simmons pulled Fitz aside for a large hug.

"You're absolutely impossible sometimes, don't you know?"

"Isn't that why you put up with me?"

* * *

"Bobbi, he's _not _leaving you, I swear," Natasha consoled her, as Bobbi looked on the verge of crying into a drink. "Hunter loves you. There's no way he would do that."

"Sure," Bobbi snorted. "That's what he said last time, and look what happened to us then. Messy divorce for all concerned." She sighed, plopping her head on the table. "I just thought that...maybe this time...things were going so well between us, you know?"

_Hunter would owe her big time for this. _

Just before Natasha could start plotting out various ways to kill the man to make Bobbi feel better, there was a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Clint, looking absolutely smashing in a navy blue tux. "No, Clint, I can't dance with you right now." She gestured to the mess of a spy next to her. "Women's problems."

Clint frowned. "Umm...no, Nat. Not that. I need you to cover for me." He made a phone motion while jerking his thumb at the door. "If Tony asks, I had awful food poisoning and am currently in the bathroom on the 44th floor. He hates those bathrooms." Comprehension dawned on Natasha's face, and she nodded.

"Say hi to Laura and the kids for me, won't you?" Clint grinned and nodded, starting towards the door stealthily. "Don't stay up too late!"

"I always wanted a family," Bobbi sighed, staring forlornly at her drink. "Doesn't look like that's happening anytime soon, though."

Natasha opened her mouth to reply, but before she could answer, a loud screech emitted from the front of the room. Both women turned to see Hunter on the stage, fumbling with a microphone. _Finally. About time. I was about to get onstage and do it myself._

"Uh, hi," he began, bending down awkwardly to get the microphone to his height. "Sorry for your second distraction of the night, if you don't mind. I'm Hunter. I helped FitzSimmons over there get together. If you ask me, they had it a long time coming." He paused. "But that's not why I'm here right now.

"I've kind of lost the person I came here with," he admitted nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Bobbi Morse? Anyone happen to know where she is? No? No? See, there's something I really need to tell her. It's not something that can wait."

"What do you want, Hunter?" Bobbi had threaded her way through the crowd until she was standing in the middle of the dance floor, the agents having left her with a small area. The proud blue of her dress was a contrast to her emotionally fragile visage. "Trust me, there's not a lot you could say after this."

"What if there was?" he asked, feeling bravado suddenly surge through him. Screw the speech. He could do this all on his own. "What if there were things that I wanted to tell you today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life? What if there was the realization that, yes, Bob, I love you, and I want to love you forever? What if, for my entire life, I was looking for the perfect soulmate, and I wanted to tell her that I was stupid for leaving her the first time, and that it was the worst mistake that I'd ever made in my entire life?

"And what if I told you that I _know _this time that I'm not going to leave you? That right here, right now, I promise to be with you for the rest of my life? What if I asked you, Barbara Morse," He got down on one knee, amid gasps from the crowd, and drew a box out of his pocket. "to marry me?"

Bobbi was speechless for a moment, before turning back to Natasha. She only smirked at her, giving her friend an uncharacteristic thumbs-up. _She knew. _

"Well, first I'd say that I was an absolute emotional wreck for the entire night because I thought you were leaving me," she said to him. "Then I'd say that I should probably let Natasha kick your ass for doing this.

"Then I'd probably tell you that I was stupid, too, for letting you leave the first time," she said a little more softly. The rest of the world began to blur out in her vision, leaving only him in her sights. "And that I cried for nights on end, wanting you back. And lastly-" Her voice cracked a little. "I'd tell you that I want to make this work as much as you do.

"I'd tell you that it's a yes."

Loud cheers erupted from the entire crowd, louder than when FitzSimmons had gotten together. Bobbi was immediately swarmed by the entire Bus team as well as the Avengers, who all but crushed her in a hug.

"I can't believe you knew," she accused Natasha, who was grinning madly.

"I have to admit, I was scared when he was dancing with FitzSimmons," she answered, glaring at Hunter, who had just come over to his now-fiancee. "That was most _definitely _not part of the plan."

"It was too good to pass up!" he exclaimed. "Besides, Rogers. When you going to pop the question?"

He regretted that question as the two of them began chasing him out the door.

* * *

**Thor is such a good bro. Really. Please leave your feels about THAT scene in a review. Pretty please? I almost cried writing it, haha xD Best review gets a flower from the rooftop garden!**


	38. It's All Crystal Clear

**I lied. My SAT II is next week. Which is why the update's now instead of next week! **

**THIS IS HIGHLY AU. IT'S SO AU IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY. I am fully aware Natasha is NOT an empath, nor did she go through the Mist. I BLAME PIKAPEGASUS FOR THIS PLOT BUNNY**

**Shoutout to fcbsoccergirl19, fantasylivesindreams, jenkalish, deleteled, iceshadow19, therealhooper, rollaroclintasha and RoseJustice for following!**

**To TeenageAvengerSurvivingSchool: YES CONVERSE ARE FIRST CHOICE WITH EVERYTHING. Unfortunately, that's not how it always works out...**

**You all had such great reviews, to everyone that _did _review! You all get a flower! :D**

* * *

"You know that's what's best for her," were the first words that Skye heard as she awoke, her head throbbing something nasty. What _exactly_ had happened to her? She remembered bits and pieces-the underground city, finding the Diviner, Trip-

_Trip._

The memory of her friend's death washed back over her like a tsunami, suddenly claiming her ability to breathe. _She'd killed him. Been responsible for his death._ And now she was on the Bus, undeservedly safe and sound while she waited for Coulson to make his next move-

_"They don't know about me,"_ was hissed in return. "She would kill me if she found out I was alive. I've died once. I'm not dying again."

"It's the only option we've got if we want to help her," May's voice was hushed, but far less panicked than that of the director's. "You and I both saw how she was when we picked her up. It's just like Skye is now. I'm telling you, she's all we've got."

Blearily, Skye wondered just who it was would make Coulson and May so confidential with each other. She knew Coulson had, so to speak, 'died', but she hadn't known the circumstances. Whoever it was, though, it seemed to have to do with her. _Were they going to run tests on her? Psychoanalyze her? _Instances ran through Skye's mind, her fear mounting with each possibility.

It was why, when Bobbi opened the door to the med bay, she jumped out of her bed, fully intending to make a break for it. It took a few stumbles, as she was still slightly woozy, but she still managed to make it to the entrance-or so she thought.

In reality, Bobbi had picked her up easily in a fireman's carry, depositing Skye back on the bed and strapping her down. "What the hell, Skye?!" was exclaimed at the brunette. "You know we're not trying to hurt you!" Her face softening, she added, "We just want to make sure you're okay."

"And then what?" Suddenly angry, every inch of Skye's emotion was put into her glare. "We index me? Try to figure out what I can _do_? Plumb the inner depths of my emotions to figure out what the hell is wrong with me? Because we can _skip_ all of that, Bobbi. How about we just skip all of that and _leave me the hell alone_?" She didn't know where all of the unexpected anger had come from, but she just went with it, venting out all of her frustrations at Tripp's death.

It wasn't fair that she was alive and he wasn't. It wasn't fair that he was a mass of ashes and she was whole, all because of some seemingly random abnormality. She should've been dead right there along with him. A pile of black soot, reduced to nothingness from the touch of the Diviner.

But she wasn't. She was here, strapped down to a cot, attempting to fight one of the best agents SHIELD had. Skye slumped into her restraints with a strangled sob, leaving Bobbi to cautiously approach the bed, her guard up just in case. "Skye?"

"It's not fair" burst out from the younger agent, who was beginning to sob in earnest. Slowly, Bobbi undid the straps, leaving Skye to sit up and curl into a ball. "It's just not fair, Bobbi. I should be dead." Instantly, Bobbi knew it was Tripp's death that had Skye in shambles, and she pulled her into a hug, one hand rubbing comfortingly at her back. "I should be _dead_."

"Shh, Skye. I promise it's going to get better. You're going to be fine." Truthfully, Bobbi had no idea what was in store for the girl, but she figured it had to be better than emotional distress, right? "Everything's going to be better in time."

"You don't understand," Skye sobbed, clutching harder to the front of Bobbi's shirt. "I'm this danger now, and the only people who want me are the ones that want to kill me. I don't _belong_ anywhere, Bobbi," she gulped, ceasing her sobs for a moment to look up. "I thought I did for a while, but it turns out I'm temporary like all the rest."

Bobbi said nothing, only allowed her to continue sobbing, frowning when she saw Coulson's face in the corner of her vision, holding a manila folder. Didn't he understand that now wasn't the time? She raised an eyebrow in return, sighing when he held up the folder, its contents stamped with a large 'CONFIDENTIAL' on its front. She sighed and nudged Skye. "Come on, Skye. Coulson wants to talk to you."

With a last sniffle, Skye disentangled herself from the senior agent, making herself presentable as Coulson strolled in, all business. "Skye," he began, making sure to adopt a sensitive tone. "How are you? I know you've had a bit to deal with in the last few hours, I just want to let you know what's going to go down."

"So, believe it or not, this isn't the first time we've had to deal with something like this," The folder was held up, its contents waved jauntily. "There's actually another agent that's gone through this transformation. We've decided to call her in-she'll know how to...help you transition through what you've gone through."

"I'm still waiting for the part where you run tests on me," Skye answered dryly, her arms crossed. "Surely the 'other' person that's been through this has been tested on." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Because who would SHIELD be if they just let this person go, am I right?" Adopting an impression of Coulson, she mocked, "Every powered person out there has to be indexed for their own good."

Coulson, acting as if he hadn't just been dealt a blow, went on. "We're not going to run tests on you, Skye. We didn't run tests on her-although, we didn't know at the time, but it's only fair-and we don't run tests on our agents." He held out his hand. "I give you my word as director that nothing's going to happen."

Skye just stared at the hand. "No psychobabble."

"None."

"I'm in." She took the hand and shook it purposely. "Who are you bringing in?"

"See, that's also a delicate matter," Coulson hesitated, handing the file over to Bobbi to examine. He knew she'd understand why. Bobbi flipped open the folder, scanning its contents. Her green eyes widened with disbelief, and she snapped it shut, glaring at Coulson.

"I've known her for years, goddammit," she snarled, tossing it back at him. "Why wasn't I informed about this?" Because _hell _if it would come from the source itself. Bobbi knew better than to expect _that. _She wasn't going to lie-she felt a tiny bit betrayed.

"I was sending you deep undercover," Coulson explained, albeit a bit apologetically. "I couldn't risk arming you with such sensitive information. If you'd been exposed, it all would've gone to hell. HYDRA thinks there's only one person with abilities, and that's Skye. I would _hate _to see how they got if they knew that one of our best was also powered."

"Is May-?" Skye chose that moment to stake a guess, and the two senior agents barked out a laugh in unison. "You can't blame me for guessing," she muttered. "So who is it?"

"You know, she thinks you're dead," Bobbi reminded Coulson with a tilt of her head. "She's going to kill you when she finds out you're alive. You literally raised the two of them. Plus me," she added, "but that came later. Let me tell you, those were some hard footsteps to follow."

"I'll let you three catch up once I've got them here," Coulson sighed, getting up and heading to the doors of the med bay. "That is, if I haven't been killed first. Again. And if that does happen, I think I'd rather have stayed dead the first time."

* * *

"_News reports out of San Juan detail a large scale earthquake, causing a massive landslide of several historical landmarks into the ocean. It is not confirmed yet as to whether there were any deaths, or just __what__ was the cause of that earthquake. Our news team will continue to investigate this unnatural disaster. Back to you, John."_

Natasha sighed, turning off the TV with a switch of her hand. It'd been years since she'd had to think about it-that dark, cylindrical cavern in San Juan that had changed her life forever-but here it was again, back to rear its ugly head.

It'd been another mark of her training-how her superiors had gotten a hand on it, she had no idea-but it'd been a trying week for all concerned. Girls had disappeared left and right, rumors flying left and right. _Perhaps they were being smuggled out of the country. Perhaps they'd been freed. Perhaps they'd staged a daring escape and were finally on their own. _Natasha had shaken her head at them all, coldly reviewing the gossiping girls with a disdainful look, imagining how they would soon die at her hands.

She hadn't paid much attention to the disappearances-they meant less competition for her, after all-until one day she was roughly shaken awake, her instructor muttering in harsh Russian for her to get dressed. She'd followed like the obedient trainee she was, a bag roughly shoved over her head once the cool air of the outside world hit her face.

It'd been a long time before Natasha had been able to see again, during which time she'd honed all other four senses-she'd deduced that it was probably the purpose of the deprivation-and she'd been led into a dark temple, her eyes still finding nothing but darkness, even after the bag was pulled off of her head. She'd been strapped into a pulley and lowered down into a dark abyss, her eyes quickly adjusting once she'd reached bottom. The surprise expressed by her superiors had been...startling, to say the least. They were all surprised she wasn't dead, apparently.

She'd been led into the cylindrical room then, a shaft of light highlighting the gray, metallic device in the middle. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen in her ten years, and she'd stared at it in wonder before she'd been told to touch it. Suddenly, it had all become clear as to where the missing girls had went. They hadn't been freed. They hadn't been smuggled out of the country. They'd all been taken here, to see if they could make it this far, and they'd all died once they'd touched the bottom of the abyss.

And now they expected her to take the next step, to touch the gray thing. For what twisted reason, Natasha hadn't known. But what she _had _known at that point was that she wasn't prepared to end her own life on a whim. Others', yes, but she'd been determined to hang on to her own.

So she'd lashed out, dealing blows to those closest to her. She kicked, punched and even bit, doing whatever it took to avoid touching the very object that could potentially end her life. The other men in the chamber caught on quickly and had attempted to subdue her, even going so far as to make grabs for her head and smash it onto the device.

Finally, she'd slipped, one of her punches not going where she'd calculated, and she'd swiped the device instead of hitting her attacker, the gray object splitting open immediately, revealing a cluster of purple crystals. She could tell by the look on her superiors' faces that this was exactly what they'd wanted to happen, the manic glee on their faces terrifying her. The walls had closed up immediately around them, her terror manifesting.

A crackle around her feet had her looking down at her ratty excuses for sneakers, a stone casing already beginning to surround them. A scream had wormed its way out of her mouth, and once they'd started, they didn't stop. Pressure had begun to build up inside of her chest, hindering her ability to breathe as the stone wound her way up her body. _Was this how she was going to die? _Indeed it was, as the stone finally rendered her blind and unable to breathe.

For ten agonizing seconds, the pressure remained on her chest. For the life of her, Natasha couldn't figure out why she'd still held a train of thought. _She was supposed to be dead, for fuck's sake. _That minor thread of curiosity had warred with the other ones in her mind, some of them panicking at the lack of oxygen and the current circumstances of being set in stone.

Then, she'd heard it.

A slight _crack_. Another crack, and Natasha's left hand had been freed. She flexed it weakly, the oxygen deprivation finally making its presence in her brain. Slowly but surely, the rest of her stone encasing had fallen off of her body, leaving her gasping for air in her tatty t-shirt and shorts. She'd shaken off the last bits of stone, the remaining adrenaline in her body turning to anger at the people who'd brought her here. They looked confused, and she grabbed one of their throats, hoisting him up in the air.

"Что же произошло?" she'd demanded of him, slowly exerting pressure on his windpipe. She _knew _those strangulation lessons would've come in handy someday. "Что ты сделал со мной?" Slowly, the man in her grasp had held up a mirror, showing her reflection. Natasha frowned. She'd looked exactly the same as she had before. Except-

She'd looked _alive_. An energy had seemed to thrum through her veins, making her glow slightly. Everything about her had been magnified in some small way, from the vitality in her eyes to the shade of her fiery red hair. Natasha had casually handed the mirror back to the man, who'd breathed a sigh of relief that was quickly cut off as she'd pressed one of her hidden knives to his throat. _She'd done it even then, back when she was a tiny, ten-year-old girl. _"Это ничего не ответил."

"Мы сделали вас красивыми, Наталья," he'd gasped, and she'd pressed harder, a drop of blood oozing from where blade met skin. "Больше, чем вы могли себе представить." She'd narrowed her eyebrows at him, still uncomprehending.

"Вы должны десять секунд, чтобы объяснить, прежде чем я убью тебя." He'd paled at that, immediately launching into a stuttered explanation. Natasha didn't remember much of the scientific jargon, but the general gist had been that they purple crystals had altered her structure so that she possessed some sort of empathy.

"Вы всегда будете обречены чувствовать эмоции других людей, а не свои собственные, Наталья." She'd snorted at that. What emotions? She hadn't had emotions since she was five. She would have no problem discerning her own from her victims'. Maybe if they were of excitement. "Закрой глаза. Вы можете чувствовать их?"

Now that she had, the fear radiating from the other men in waves was so strong she could almost taste its bitter aftermath. It was almost too much to handle-if her training had been nonexistent. With a small effort, she'd stalked out of the room, attaching herself to the harness and getting pulled up. When she'd reached the surface, the other trainees were met with a glare as she felt their egos, black and vile and arrogant.

She'd vowed that she'd take them down one day, one by one.

And she had. It'd taken her another ten long years and much training, but the day had finally presented itself where Natasha had been able to manipulate the emotions of people around her to a T, a deadly combination when considered with her lethal skills. A twenty-year old Natalia had been through an arranged marriage and death in the ten years since she'd been transformed, and was hardened now more than ever. She hadn't mentioned what had gone in that cylindrical chamber-the only people left who knew were either dead or going to be.

She'd gone through the motions of that day-training, punishment, more trainings. With every punch she'd thrown, she'd imagined taking their heads off later that night. It was a sweet bit of vengeance against all of those who'd ever worked against her.

That night, it was almost child's play at how she'd snuck out of the facility, changing emotions like they were a flick of a switch. Of course, she'd learned later that it wasn't supposed to be so easy-SHIELD had planned a raid that night. It explained why there'd been a surplus of agents that night on duty, but it hadn't made a difference-weak minds were all the same.

What she _hadn't _counted on was Clint Barton. He'd been the only obstacle in her pursuit to escape the facility, effortlessly hunting her down and backing her into a corner. Natasha had tried everything she knew to change his mind-but nothing had worked. She'd been ready to admit defeat, to concede that she had been bested by a man with a bow and arrow. (It wouldn't be her best, but hey. She'd taken out much worse.)

But Barton had apparently been feeling unpredictable that day, offering her his hand and an offer to go with SHIELD. She'd stared at for a long time, trying to figure out whether he was being honest or this was another ploy for her life. In the end, she'd taken it, walking out of the facility not as a member of the Red Room, but perhaps something better.

Of course, depending on other people also meant that other people had to know about her powers. She kept it small, to the people she really trusted, which pretty much remained Clint. Eventually, that list would expand to mean Coulson and eventually May, but it hadn't grown in years. When Coulson had died, the one stray thought that had crossed her mind was that the list of people she trusted had just become thirty-three percent shorter.

Coulson had been the one to teach her that the world wasn't as straightforward as she'd been taught. It wasn't just men and women. Men could be with men. Women could be with women. Hell, some could even be with both. It'd taken Natasha a long time to actually comprehend that concept, feeling like a child when she'd asked Coulson that one day why she'd had stronger feelings of attraction towards women, rather than men. To his credit, he hadn't freaked out, simply taken her arm and guided her towards a class on sexual orientation.

She'd never gotten to properly thank him for that.

* * *

"For the next few weeks, we'll be having a guest upon the Bus," Coulson addressed his half-awake team (minus Skye), who was gathered around the holotable. "It's a guest of high importance, so we'll have to be on our best behavior for her."

"_Her_?" Hunter, Mack and Fitz echoed at the same time. Bobbi and Simmons gave them identical glares, causing them to shrink back a bit in fear. It was Mack who finally found enough pluck to respond, holding up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm a single man. I can hit on whoever I please."

"Trust me, she won't be interested in any of you," May smirked. "Her interests are a little...outside the box." The look on the men's faces was absolutely priceless, and Bobbi had produced a camera out of nowhere, snapping a picture. "If anything, I'd be the worried ones." Simmons looked a little taken aback by that one, looking to Bobbi for reassurance. The older agent slung an arm around the scientists, squeezing her shoulder.

"You'll be fine, Simmons. Trust me. Just don't piss her off and you'll be fine."

"Which brings to my next point," Coulson said, taking back the conversation. "Everyone is to be on their best behavior. Which means that _yes, _Hunter, you and Bobbi are not having sex in semi-public areas on the Bus. FitzSimmons, you are _not _running random experiments. Mack, no midnight Mario Kart tournaments. And May," he finished, glaring at his second-in-command, who was raising an eyebrow innocently. "Do _not _challenge her to a sparring match. You know how those end."

"Damn it, Phil. You know I make a point to do it at least once every time I see her."

"Yeah, but this time's different," Coulson sighed before picking up the phone. "I'm going to make a phone call. If you don't find me in the next 24 hours, start planning my funeral. I'll probably be dead for real this time."

* * *

"Natasha. Natasha!" It was 12:40 in the morning when she awoke to hear Clint banging on her door. Normally, she would have gone back to bed-most likely he was drunk-but when she opened it, ice ran through her blood at the sight of him. Clint was a ghostly white, his eyes wide, a slight sheen of sweat covering his forehead. He sounded out of breath, as if he'd run all the way from where he'd come from.

"Clint? What's going on?" She wouldn't deny that she was worried. There'd been plenty of times where Clint had raised false alarms, but she somehow suspected that this was not one of them.

"It's Coulson, Nat. Coulson's-"

"Coulson's dead." A minor twinge of sadness struck through her mild annoyance at being woken so early in the morning. Had he really woken her up in the middle of the night for this? "Are you drunk, Barton?"

"That's the thing," Clint answered, still trying to breathe normally. "Nat, Coulson's alive."

She took a moment to process that before saying, "Give me five minutes" and slamming the door in his face.

* * *

"Why was I not informed about this?" Natasha demanded of Fury, stalking into his office. Clint followed a safe distance behind her, wary of her temper. The director had called them both to his office at the early hour, regret lacing his tone. "How long has he been alive?"

"It was for your own good, Agent Romanoff," the director answered resolutely. "It was for everyone's good. Hell, we didn't even know if what we'd done would work. It was best that we kept this secret until we saw results."

"He literally _raised _me, Nick," Natasha hissed, her green eyes flashing. "And no, I'm not about to count those years I spent in hell as a childhood. Phil was the closest thing I had to a father. Do you know how bad it was for Clint and I when he died?"

"I understand it was a trying time for you and Agent Barton, but-"

"I spent _months_ agonizing over his death," Clint entered with a quiet anger. "I spent _months _trying to figure out how I could've avoided his death. The right moves I could've taken to avoid Loki's mind control. Steps I could've taken to avoid breaking into the Helicarrier. I tried to think of _any way _that I could've avoided his death, and now you tell me that all of that, all of the nights I spent up, were for _nothing_?" His face had become a snarl. "So you can understand, _Director, _why I'm a little distressed at this turn of events."

"This is all beyond me," Fury intoned, edging slowly away from Natasha, who was fingering her gun. "He called me an hour ago, gave me a set of coordinates, and told me he needed you two. Some sort of physical training exercise." She exchanged a confused glance with Clint. _Physical training? _She considered bending his mind to figure out his true intentions, but figured a mind like Fury's was probably walled up, anyways.

"We'll go," Natasha answered finally, putting away her gun. She saw Fury visibly relax and smirked. He may not fear much, but one of his best agents about to shoot him was always high on the list. "But don't think that this isn't over," she warned, heading out of the room. "There are plenty of answers you owe me, Nick."

* * *

"Who do you think it is?" Hunter asked Simmons later that day, as they were preparing for their mystery guest to arrive. "Whoever it is, Coulson seems to put a lot of stock in her." He thought for a minute. "Seems to scare the hell out of him, too."

"It can't be Agent Hill," she mused, setting out a new set of sheets and a pillow. "He would've told us straight up that she was coming. It has to be someone that we don't know-someone important." A thought struck her and she froze, the pillowcase in her hand. "You don't think-it can't be-it's not the director, do you think, Hunter?"

"It's not," Bobbi answered shortly, tossing Hunter another set of sheets. "And stop gossiping like those old English ladies your country's so famous for, Hunter. I could hear you from all the way down the hall." Hunter made some sort of unintelligible noise, most likely an attempt at a protest that Simmons had been gossiping as well.

"Do you know who it is, Bobbi?" Simmons asked innocently, throwing the now-fluffed pillow onto the bed. "Has Coulson told you who it was?"

"Let's just say there was an...interesting incident that led me to learn about who was coming," Bobbi sighed, walking out of the room. She hung in the doorway before adding, "And when you find out who it is, you'll be thankful Coulson told you not to hit on her." With that, she was walking down the hallway, her heels clicking.

"Hey, Nat," she said quietly as she greeted the redhead at the door, keeping her voice down so that Hunter and Simmons wouldn't hear. "Barton. What's kicking?" She exchanged hugs with the two of them, resisting the urge to laugh at the stormy look on Natasha's face. "I take it Fury's told you about Coulson."

"I'm going to kick his ass," Natasha promised vehemently. Bobbi rolled her eyes at Clint, who simply sighed, the 'she's been doing this all day' evident in the exhalation of air. "And then try and drink away the fact that I kicked his ass. What is he going on about, anyways?" she asked as the door shut. "Physical training? If you're on his team, I'd say they're in pretty good shape."

"It's a little more than that."

Phil Coulson emerged from his office, the two Avengers turning to face him. Silence reigned as Bobbi fidgeted. "Well, this is awkward." It was definitely more so for her, as she was just waiting to see who would make the first move. "It's good to see you?"

Natasha broke the distance between she and Clint, walking over to Coulson and delivering a healthy slap to his face. "Don't you _ever _do that to us again, Philip. Or I swear to God, I'll be the one to kill you." Without a look backwards, she stalked down the hallway, presumably to find May and chew her out. Clint was left, the silence growing to an even bigger proportion of uncomfortableness.

"It's good to see you, Phil," Clint finally said. "Stark misses you, too." The tension was broken then as both men burst into snickers, Coulson from such an absurd thought, and Clint from trying to keep a straight face.

"The day Stark misses me is the day hell freezes over," Coulson chortled. "Come on. I'm sure Natasha and May have started drinking without us." And just like that, they were off, Clint's arm even slung around the director's. Bobbi was left standing there, confused as to what had just transpired. Finally, she shrugged and headed off down the hallway.

Natasha had outdrank her the last time they'd been together, and she'd be damned if that happened again.

* * *

"So tell me what I'm really here for, Phil," Natasha said finally, setting down her fifth shot of the night. "We both know that Clint and I aren't here for physical training. You've got Morse. She's just as good as I am." Bobbi blushed uncharacteristically at that comment, choosing to down another shot. "What are we _really _here for?"

"It concerns your file." The entire room seemed to sober up at that moment, Bobbi being on the receiving end of many wary looks. She was fairly sure what she'd read in Natasha's file the day before hadn't been public knowledge, and the only people who knew about it completely were all in this room.

"I read it," she answered, breaking the silence. "And I understand why no one knows about it. If it were me, I wouldn't have told Fury, either. I've seen how he is when it comes to potential weapons." A furrow in Natasha's brow made itself present, and for a moment, the spy let her walls down, the expression in her eyes honest and open.

"Barbara." It wasn't _Morse, _it wasn't _Bobbi_, it wasn't any combination of the two. It was her full name. And in all of her years knowing Natasha, she'd never heard the redhead once say her full name. "The list of people who know is very short. I trust them all." The realization hit Bobbi in the gut, and she inhaled sharply.

Natasha trusted her. _Natasha_, who tended to make even the most hardy of agents quail in fear. Who tended to hand out affection like Coulson handed out the keys to Lola. Who was closed off and cold and reserved and...

"You're going to have to expand that list a little more."

* * *

"You told me you wouldn't psychoanalyze me."

The clipped statement cut through the silence of the med bay, Skye looking incredulous when Coulson had shown up with Natasha in tow. By now, everyone knew that it was indeed the (in)famous Black Widow aboard the Bus, the announcement being punctuated by Hunter falling to the ground in a dead faint.

The spy herself raised an eyebrow at that, but chose not to say anything as Coulson took reign of the situation instead. "This is Agent Romanoff, Skye. I've brought her here so she can talk to you." She sent Skye an offhand wave as the hacker looked her way. "She's the closest one we've got who's able to help you."

"What, by digging into my psyche? No thanks," Skye snorted. "I've read her file. She's a master manipulator. I've already told the psychologists how I feel about these _powers_. There's no need to waste her on me."

Coulson gave Natasha a look as if to say, 'You're up', and left the room, leaving the two together. Natasha took a seat in the chair opposite the bed as Skye slumped back into it, sighing in irritation. Silently, the spy focused her mind on the other woman, letting herself absorb the different emotions running through the hacker at the moment. Underneath the carefully controlled exterior, Natasha sensed apprehension. Some fear. And something she couldn't quite make out.

It intrigued her.

But first, there was business to be done.

"You know, you didn't have to come out here just because Coulson asked you to-_wow, _I feel happy," Skye muttered, surprised. "Where can I get some birthday cake and candles around here?" The next moment shifted the mood in the room. "Now I'm not sure if I'm just normal or really sad." Another moment. "Why do I feel like I want to kiss you right now? Although, given that I wanted to do that since you walked in here..._shit_." She gave Natasha a wide-eyed look. "Let's pretend that never happened."

"Believe me yet?"

"I'm willing to listen," Skye answered, sitting upright and paying full attention to Natasha's composed mask. "What did they _do _to you?"

"You've heard May's Bahrain story, right?" When the hacker nodded, she continued. "Do you know how old she was when May had to take her out?"

"Wasn't she twelve?"

"I was ten."

Skye listened in shock and horror as Natasha described her experiences in the Red Room, feeling partially like she wanted to cry. How anyone could have done that to such an innocent little girl was beyond her. She'd seen her share of injustices, but this...this was a whole new level. When Natasha arrived at her experience in the Kree Temple, Skye had to tamp down the urge to reach for the other woman, to gather her in her arms and tell her it was alright. _It wouldn't have been right. It was the __Black Widow, __for heaven's sake. _It most likely would've gotten her killed.

She settled instead for a "Agent Romanoff-" and was thoroughly surprised when she received a "Call me Natasha" in return. Outside, Clint and Coulson exchanged surprised looks at the curt response. They both knew it was quite the step-Clint hadn't gotten that privilege for three months, Coulson for six.

Truth be told, Natasha found herself just as surprised that she'd let Skye call her by her first name. She'd known the girl for how long, an hour? And here she was, giving her a privilege some people still didn't have-and they'd known her for much longer. There was something about Skye that unsettled her. And Natasha wasn't exactly sure she disliked it.

"Wait, so when you went into SHIELD, they didn't test you?" Skye asked incredulously. Natasha laughed a bit derisively, pulling her hair up into a short ponytail. "I don't believe it. Not with the way...no. There's no way."

"SHIELD had no fucking idea," Natasha answered oh-so-eloquently, making Skye snicker. "I wasn't about to tell the world's biggest intelligence agency that I'd come from a facility that was trying to make powered people. Or that I _was _powered. That would be hell. I'd actually planned for them to never find out." Her face darkened. "Then there was this clusterfuck in Budapest."

* * *

"_Barton, Romanoff." Clint and Natasha tried to look contrite in front of Fury, but after having just filled both bathrooms on the floor with suds, it was sort of hard to keep a straight face. They tried anyways, Clint failing just after two seconds. "I need you two in Budapest."_

"_But we just got out of Vienna," Clint whined quietly to Natasha as they scanned the folder. The mission seemed easy enough. Get in, infiltrate the high society, get the info, get out. "You think they'd send us to a different part of Europe, but no. I always wanted to go to Seville."_

"_What's our cover, sir?" Natasha asked. She always loved these kinds of missions. They allowed her to slip into someone else other than herself, away from all of the red in her ledger. "We're not going to have to be married, are we?"_

"_Unfortunately, not this time," Both of them could hear the regret in Fury's voice. The entirety of SHIELD seemed to think that Clint and Natasha were sleeping together, despite their protests. Natasha wasn't about to tell them she didn't swing that way. Even her superior. "You two will be Catalina and Nikolai Yornit, adopted children of the famous Yornit refinery." The two of them took the files, looking them over as they walked out of the room. _

"_I wonder when he's going to figure out that we're not interested in each other," Clint joked, nudging Natasha with his shoulder in the elevator. "Think there's a pool running around somewhere?"_

"_I guarantee it," she snorted, slapping the file shut. "Time to get our fancy-schmancy personas on again." There was nothing more that they both hated other than acting like high society-he having come from nothing at all, she having come from worse than nothing. _

_The mission in itself had been fine. Natasha had waltzed in, dropped jaws, and stunned with effortless grace while Clint had the time of his life teasing her. They'd done so well, in fact, that they hadn't even needed to take anyone out in order to get the information they'd come for-all Natasha had done was flash a smile at the pudgy man, who'd gratefully handed it over. _

_It was obvious, however, once they were on their way from the hotel, why the man had put up so little of a fight. No sooner had they turned a corner from their location that a shot had rung out, tearing right through Clint's side. He'd cried out in pain, crumpling to the ground like a wet napkin. Suddenly, the only source of stability in Natasha's life had become completely unstable; but there was no time to dwell on that as more bullets flew through the air, some whizzing right past her hair. She took one look at the crimson blood streaming on his suit, ruining the white shirt he'd worked so hard to find. _

_She wouldn't have any more red in her ledger. Not this damn time. _

_She grabbed Clint up from the ground in a feat of superhuman strength, careful not to worsen his injury, attempting to see a way out. Men clad in black flanked her on all sides, guns pointed. She searched for the one in charge-it wasn't hard, given that he was wearing numerous rings and a large, wooden cross. "What do you want?" she spat at them, too preoccupied to find a better comeback. _

"_Why, Natalia, do you not recognize me so soon?" _

_The words were spoken in a crude Russian accent, the English marred beyond repair. Natasha froze, the memories she'd worked so hard to suppress beginning to come back to the surface. Bodies heaped on bodies. Blood dripping from the ceilings of the gray punishment chambers. A growled, 'Excellent, Natalia', in her ear as she stood over the corpse of her fellow trainee, their cries still echoing in her ears. _

_They'd come back for her. _

"_вы." she'd growled at her former trainer, her eyes flashing venomously. "Ты должен быть мертв." _

"_Not quite yet, my dear," he'd answered breezily in return, fingering his trigger. "And you answer me in Russian-surely you want to use English for your American boyfriend?" Anger flared through Natasha at the mention of Clint-had Coulson not taught her differently, she was sure they would've been together._

"_Вы не хотели бы этого," she said sweetly, refusing to stoop to his broken English. "Это действительно позор для вас я бушует лесбиянок." At the look on his face, she revelled in the small victory. "Yes, didn't think I'd turn out that way, hm? Thought you could keep me in the straightforward ways forever? Just like you thought you could keep me in the program forever. Well, I've got news for you, мудак," she began, putting Clint down and drawing out her own gun. _

"_You can't change people."_

_And with that she started shooting. _

_Even with all of her training, the truth remained that she was still outnumbered by many a man to one. If she'd had Clint, maybe there would've been a chance she could've made it. But, as it stood, Clint was lying on the ground, breathing what might be his last breath with every passing second. She felt the fear of the men around her, felt their terror in taking what might be __their__ last breaths, seeing her shots hit more of them than they liked. They were such weak minded men, she thought to herself. Easily broken. _

"_Go on, Natalia," he taunted her, a grin forming on his face. "Use it. You know you want to. Or have you softened so much that you have forgotten how? Hiding behind the physical weapons of a flimsy agency, convincing yourself that you are still as good as you were when you left?"_

_Natasha was seeing red now, and it wasn't just that of the people bleeding out around her. Death and despair were filling her emotional outlets, staggering her focus so that she wasn't able to let off more than one bullet every thirty seconds or so. Still, despite that, she hadn't been hit...until she was, taking two bullets to the left knee. _

_Her world crumpled as she fell to the ground, shouting in pain. Stared defiantly in response even as the man she'd once looked up to advanced over her, a lecherous look forming on his face. "The great Natalia Romanova," he sneered. "Once so mighty, now reduced to nothingness on the streets of a forgotten country. Oh, how far you've fallen."_

"_Not as far as you're about to," she struggled out, a range of emotions running through her-the bright red of anger, the solid blue of determination, and the dark, dark black of revenge and hate. She channeled it all, making one last lunge for his head, grabbing onto it with everything she had and pouring all of that emotion into him. _

_He screamed in pain, and with a grunt, Natasha expanded her energies, spreading them to the remaining men around her. The gunshot wound in her thigh throbbed painfully, and she let out a scream of pain that mingled with those of her enemies; only she was left struggling to stay upright as they all collapsed, weighted down with the burst of their own emotions. Soon, they were all unconscious in the street, the only sounds the sirens coming to arrive at the scene. Weakened, Natasha slumped down next to Clint, checking to make sure he was still breathing. The small bursts of air were enough to give her hope, and she closed her eyes as the emergency personnel arrived-it would really only be for just a minute..._

* * *

"No one actually knows what happened besides me," Natasha concluded. "And, I suppose, you. Clint doesn't even remember what happened. We remember Budapest very differently. It's why we never talk about it."

"You're an empath," Skye said in the dead silence that followed Natasha's long confession. "That's the only way you could've gotten to him." Her voice softened. "It's ironic, really. You were trained for your entire childhood to ignore emotions, and the crystals turn you into someone who can inherently detect emotions."

"Fate's always dealt me a cruel hand," Natasha shrugged fluidly. "Sometimes you've just gotta go with it."

"How did you _deal_?" Skye's voice was suddenly quiet and vulnerable, tugging at Natasha's long-forgotten heartstrings. "How did you live with the fact that you were different-that you weren't _normal_?"

"I was never _normal,_ which is a start." Steady green eyes met wide, panicked brown ones. "I was pushed to my limits, tortured beyond belief, all in the name of endurance. I never knew was normal _was_. Some days, you just have to accept that and know that life's going to be better." As soon as Natasha said that, all terror was erased from Skye's emotions, replaced by a serene calm. "I promise you're going to be fine, Skye,"

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

* * *

**Что же произошло-_What just happened?_**

**Что ты сделал со мной?-_What did you do to me?_**

**Это ничего не ответил-_That doesn't answer anything._**

**Мы сделали вас красивыми, Наталья-_We've made you beautiful, Natalia._**

**Больше, чем вы могли себе представить-_More than you could ever imagine._**

**Вы должны десять секунд, чтобы объяснить, прежде чем я убью тебя-_You've got ten seconds to explain before I kill you._**

**Вы всегда будете обречены чувствовать эмоции других людей, а не свои собственные, Наталья-_You'll always be doomed to feel others' emotions instead of your own, Natalia._**

**Закрой глаза. Вы можете чувствовать их-_Close your eyes. Can you feel them?_**

**вы-_You._**

**Ты должен быть мертв_.-You're supposed to be dead._**

**Вы не хотели бы этого-_Wouldn't you like that._**

**Это действительно позор для вас я бушует лесбиянок-_It's really a shame for you I'm a raging lesbian._**

**мудак-_Asshole_.**

**Again. If you wanted to yell at someone...I'll take yelling in form of reviews! Best review gets to read Natasha's file! **

**Also, I was thinking about blowing this up into a full story...let me know if you want that!**


	39. You and Me and Steve

**Screw regular updates. Really. They happen when they happen; I'm sorry, I just don't have the energy to update once a week. Maybe once every two weeks? Maybe it's just the apathy of the end of the school year. I don't know. **

**Shoutout to tea-rex, BoukieToo, Jewea19, ShaeenaJousy, MsDaHedgehog, LitleeOne, thewriterstory, vexi1836, Username405, and jeepchick85 for following!**

**Best review goes to ilikehats2, who gets serious props for nearly groveling for a full story :D Be cautious with that file...HYDRA IS EVERYWHERE. I _will _get around to turning it into a full story! I promise!**

**This one goes out to RoseJustice, who asked for "Pepper getting jealous about the time Tony spends with Steve, even though Tony is obviously all about Pepper". Hope this went well!**

* * *

The mood was just right for the night, Tony decided satisfactorily. He'd tinted the windows, polished every surface in the kitchen, and gotten take-out so magnificent that it almost looked like it was homemade. _Almost. _Two heaping plates of pasta primavera sat steaming on the kitchen island, which had been covered with a ruby red tablecloth. _Not bad for the last half hour. _There was just one thing he seemed to be missing, although he couldn't remember what it was...

"Candles, Stark." Clint was suddenly behind him, making the billionaire jump about a foot in the air. "You forgot to light the candles." He was as dressed for the occasion as Tony was, having managed to achieve the impossible: asking Natasha Romanoff out on a date. The entire Tower had been present when it'd happened, Natasha having threatened Clint at knifepoint until he'd spit it out.

"Of course, of course, Legolas," Tony muttered, running to find a lighter. "No better way to ruin a candlelit dinner than to _actually _forget the candles." He quickly returned with one, lighting each candle with a _snap_. "Where's Natashalie? She get cold feet or something, man? I told you she wouldn't go through with it."

"I suggest you rectify that statement before you're lying in a pool of your own cold blood."

"Natashalie," Tony sighed, turning around at the sound of the assassin's voice. Natasha made the third person to be decked out that night, with a one-shouldered black dress that wove into an almost sort of type of braid before flowing out into a skirt that hit mid-thigh. She'd straightened out her hair so that it fell smoothly around her chin, no sign of a curl anywhere. "Glad to see you aren't leaving poor bird boy hanging."

"Ready to go?" Clint murmured to her. She simply looped her arm in his in response, the two of them turning towards the elevator. They walked in unison, a sure practice that'd come from years of Strike Team Delta. "Now, you two make sure you don't stay up too late!" Tony shot him the bird in return, sighing to himself as he was left alone in the room once more.

"Tony? Did you do all of this?" Pepper's voice floated from the elevator as she stepped out, wearing a scoop-necked tank with slits in the side that meshed with an emerald green skirt, short in the front and long in the back.

"Clean up the Tower, make sure everyone was out, cook this amazing meal, and convince Clintasha to finally get it together?" Tony asked. At her look, he sighed. "Half of it. The food's from the Italian place on Fifth and Legolas actually grew a set before asking Natashalie on a date." When her smile returned, he beamed, going over to the other side of the table and pulling out a chair for her. "After you, m'lady."

"This is pretty fortunate," Pepper murmured as she slid into her seat. "It's not often that we're the only ones in the Tower." Truth be told, Tony had done everything but bribe Thor with Pop-Tarts in order to send him to New Mexico, nearly bringing out the Hulk in trying to convince Bruce to go to the science convention with FitzSimmons. (It'd been Fitz's puppy eyes that had won Bruce over in the end.)

In short, Tony had gone through a lot to get this night in order and he'd be damned if anyone tried to ruin it. Nothing short of the apocalypse would ruin the dinner he'd worked (semi) hard to plan. "So, honey, how was your day?" Pepper looked up in surprise, her fork halfway to her mouth. Tony _never _asked how she was. She furrowed her brow, wondering if there was some sort of ulterior motive behind all of this.

"Well," she began cautiously, "I sent Steve to the ice cream social you so elegantly opted out of last week." If Tony noticed the subtle dig at his behavior, he didn't say anything. "He's supposed to scope out any potential companies and mingle with them. Other than that, Phil tried to apply for another Bus' worth of funding. I swear he's just trying to get money to take May someplace, but-"

She was cut off by the _ding _of the elevator, the doors opening to reveal a forlorn Steve. He was hunched over depressedly, his posture showing the defeat that was sure to be mirrored in his sad blue eyes. Without acknowledging either of them, he trudged past the kitchen island, rifling through the fridge for something to eat. Tony and Pepper watched him for a moment, trying to figure out the best course of action.

Tony, of course, took the first step.

"Stevaroni!"

Steve jumped, bashing his head on the roof of the fridge. Rubbing his head with a sigh, he turned to the couple, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hi, Tony." There was a short silence while he figured out what to call Pepper without being given the glare. "...ma'am." That seemed to suffice, for he still had all of his body parts intact. "How are you two?"

"How was the ice cream social?" Pepper asked softly, standing up and going over to him. She put a quiet hand on his shoulder. "Did you break any records?" Raising an eyebrow jokingly, she said dryly, "I hope you didn't break the bar record. Clint claims it took him three days of fasting to eat that entire ice cream buffet in ten minutes." Steve chuckled quietly in answer, his hand blindly snagging a sandwich Natasha had left in the fridge. (It'd probably been for Clint, all things aside, but she'd probably forgotten he hated roast beef.)

"There's a couple of companies who have promising tech," he answered, opening the plastic wrap around the sandwich and biting into it. "I gave them the SI card and told them to call." _Mmm, roast beef. _He wondered why, in the back of his head, why Clint had rejected this sandwich. "Never knew Natasha could make a good sandwich." Pepper paled.

"Natasha doesn't put her sandwiches in plastic wrap," she began. "May does." At that, Steve spit out the sandwich in his mouth, the bit of roast beef flying across the room. Tony had to physically duck to avoid being hit by the chunk of meat. Steve sighed as he chucked the sandwich in the trash can, re-opening the fridge to look for something that was less potentially threatening.

Tony looked at Pepper pleadingly.

She looked right back.

Finally, she sighed. "Steve, would you like to join us for dinner?"

Steve jumped once more. "Me? Dinner?" He automatically took in the tablecloth with the candles, the steaming plates of pasta, and the outfit that Pepper had painstakingly put together. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. It looks like you two were going to spend a nice night." He slowly edged towards the elevator once more, a sheepish look on his face. "I'll just be in my room, making no noise and pretending I don't exist-"

"Nonsense!" Tony jumped in, waving a grandiose hand. From out of nowhere, a chair had conjured itself up, and Tony pulled it out, gesturing to it. "_Mi casa es su casa._ Well, Tower, but you get the point. Plus, this wasn't totally important, right, Pep?" He gave her a warning look. "_Right_?"

"...right," Pepper agreed weakly. She was torn. On one hand, no one deserved happiness more than Steve, especially after Peggy's death. Tony had personally taken charge of that part of his friend's life, arranging things to keep him busy, whether it be things like leading a tour of the WWII monument in DC for a week, or say, the ice cream social.

On the other hand, she was Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, payrolled SHIELD, and certified Avenger-wrangler. Didn't she deserve _some _sort of break? In between making sure Clint and/or Natasha didn't blow anything up and that Steve didn't wallow in Peggy's death, didn't she deserve _some _time to herself?

She supposed she could put aside her personal whims for Steve's sake. _Just _this once. "Won't you join us, Steve? Tony's made this excellent pasta, and it would really be a shame if we were the only two to eat it." Tony turned red at that, and she had to smirk at her small revenge.

"Yeah, Cap," Tony choked. "Made some great pasta. Give it a shot." Steve looked slightly suspicious at the way the two of them were acting-he'd already had one bad experience with food that day, he didn't need another-but eventually sat down at the kitchen while Tony bustled around the area for once, procuring another plate and utensils for the captain. He'd even gone as so far to get him another glass of the red wine they'd been drinking before Steve politely reminded him about the fact that he didn't drink.

Five minutes into the meal, however, Pepper was starting to regret her decision of letting Steve stay in on what was _supposed _to be a romantic dinner between she and Tony. The amount of attention being spent on her had gone from all to zero, the billionaire now cracking joke after joke in order to try and cheer up the good captain. To his credit, Steve _did _seem to be cheering up, while Pepper seemed to be the one becoming more and more grouchy.

The lyrics of some song she'd heard long ago suddenly came into her head, for some reason perfectly fitting the situation.

_I could've wished a thousand wishes_

_For this night I can't believe_

_That it's finally me and you and you and me_

_Just us... and your friend Steve_

_What's the deal with your friend Steve?_

_Oh, hey, how it's going?_

Well, they certainly fit the bill. She wasn't going to say outright that she didn't care about Steve, per se, but if only the man had had some sense on when exactly to come crashing in on a date. _Never _would be the best of answers, but...

"I'm going to go to bed," she announced abruptly, pushing her chair back. "Thank you for dinner, Tony, it was wonderful, really, but I'm exhausted." She shot her boyfriend a look. "Yes, Tony, this means I _won't _be around to drag you out of the lab later. I expect you to be in bed no later than 1:30."

"I'll make sure he gets to bed, ma'am," Steve promised as Pepper headed towards the elevator. "After all, it's the least I can do to make up for coming to dinner tonight..." She could hear Tony protesting as the doors shut, sighing audibly as the elevator began to ascend.

"Can't I just have _one _night?"

* * *

"For the last time, Pep, I swear no one's going to be around,"

After the events of last week, Tony had been adamant about redoing the entire premise of having alone time with his girlfriend/business partner, and had immediately jumped at the chance to take her to the city book convention upon hearing her desire to go. Which was how they'd wound up at the biggest book convention in Manhattan, with Pepper clutching a large bundle of books and Tony nervously looking for an escape route.

"How did you even _hear _of these people?" he grumbled as she squealed in excitement, nearly knocking over a fellow reader on her way to one of the booths. The line for it snaked far and wide, with no end in sight. Pepper's face was about to fall in disappointment when Tony smoothly handed one of the people next to him in line a hundred dollar bill, the man quickly stepping aside to let them in.

"Well, I'm not sure who it was, really," Pepper exclaimed, after getting over the fact that they'd just skipped about three-quarters of the line. "It might have been May. Or Bobbi. Or Skye. Hell, it might've been Simmons, I don't really know. I just know that after the Bus team left, there was this giant stack of books for me to read. We'd just finished a merger with Alcaton Tech-that's the company that Steve discovered last week at the social-so I had some time to myself. You were in the lab arguing with Bruce, Tony," she told him before he could protest. "I don't think you would've helped much."

"What matters is that we're here now," he answered, settling onto the balls of his feet. Tony could never keep still. He was always in some sort of motion, whether it be bouncing on his toes or shifting back and forth. His Iron Man days had taught him never to stand still-doing so might be what got him killed.

Until, that is, he spotted a figure in the distance, standing stock-still to try and figure out if who he was seeing was _actually _the man he pictured. Curious, Pepper followed his gaze, her heart dropping when she spotted the familiar blond hair. _Oh, no. Couldn't it be Clint for once? Couldn't it just be Clint, undercover, looking for a target, and he just happens to be looking at us? _As much as she knew that that wasn't true, it didn't hurt to dream. She knew what was coming. _Five, four, three, two..._

"HEY! STEVE-O!" It was an impression he _had _to have learned when watching Steve's old WWII videos, Pepper was sure of it. No _way _Tony would have voluntarily learned something like that on his own. "OVER HERE, BRO!"

Steve was still wincing at Tony's use of 'bro' when he ambled over to the couple, his own stash of books in his arms. "Tony," he said to the billionaire, not altogether surprised. "What are you and Pepper doing here?" He took one glance at the books in her arms and nodded sagely. "Ah. I see. You got Bobbi's pile." He lifted the post-it off of the top of his pile, and Pepper leaned in to see the small, cramped handwriting that was barely discernible. "I've got May's. Wanna trade?"

"The only thing I hope you're trading is numbers, my man," Tony said, throwing an arm around Steve's shoulders (albeit with some difficulty). "You know, I never had you pegged for a literature kind of man. At least, not to the point where you showed up at places like these with a stack of books and a sharpie in your belt. You here for a blind date or something?"

This time around, it was kind of hard _not _to sympathize with the poor man-especially since Tony was laying into him so much about his personal life. "No, he's not," she answered with authority, shifting the pile of books higher in her arms. "We're here to do the exact same thing-bond with other people about our mutual love of books." She shot him a look. "_Aren't we_?" While Steve nodded sagely, thankful for the rescue, she mentally facepalmed. She'd hoped that her suggestion would drive him away, perhaps to some other booth that held the hapless author who was going to be on the receiving end of Captain America's praise.

_I could've wished a thousand wishes_

_For Steve to disappear_

_What the fuck's your fucking problem?_

_Why he's always here?_

Pepper suspected that the random run-ins with Steve were simply happenstance-that he'd just been a man looking for a social companion while at the same time out of touch with everything around him. But, at the same time, she wished he'd stop showing up in the places where she wanted to be alone with Tony. Pepper knew that as long as Steve was in the room with the both of them, she never stood a chance.

"And of course you're welcome to join us, Steve-o," Tony was saying to Steve, while Pepper was making a horrified face at him. "Of course Pep won't mind! You two can discuss whatever it is you two have read! Because you totally have read the same things, right?" A quick glance at both piles proved the opposite. "No? Well, you two can at least talk about me."

"Asshole," Steve said bluntly, grinning shrewdly at Pepper, who just smirked in return. "No offense, Pepper. Just tellin' it like it is. I probably would've said differently had one of the requirements to move into the Tower read one of his seventeen biographies."

"You're not far off, really," she answered. "I had to proofread each one of those to make sure none of Tony's..._graphic _life got put into the book accidentally while he was drunk. Writers tend to write down most of what Tony says when he's drunk."

"Hey, since when did this turn to bashing me?"

* * *

_How did she end up doing this again?_

The question repeated itself over and over again as she found herself in front of a severely amused Clint, who was struggling not to laugh as Pepper did everything but grovel at his feet to take Steve along on he and Natasha's next venture. "Please, Clint, I swear I'll do anything."

The smirk on Clint's face deepened. "_Anything_?"

"Anything." Pepper paused, considering the situation. "Except that. I refuse to do that." Because really, she liked her life just as it was. She couldn't be CEO if she was missing a couple of limbs. Or dead. "I swear, Clint, anything within reason, anything you ask, I'll do it."

"Look, Pepper," Clint sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "You know as well as I do that Steve's a mess because of Peggy's death. And under normal circumstances, I would completely be willing to take the man with me. I'm sure Nat would get a kick out of trying to make him blush. But not this time." His gray eyes darted around, as if expecting the other assassin to pop out of a vent somewhere. "I'm not going to take him to a proposal."

"But Clint, Tony needs this, I need this-" Pepper stopped as the words sunk in. "Wait, YOU'RE GONNA PROPOSE TO NATASHA?!" This was _excellent _news! Although it did make her question just how long the two had really been dating.

"Shhh!" Clint grabbed her arm, holding a finger to his lips. He looked furtively around to make sure no one had heard him. "Do you _want _her to hear us?"

"Clint, Natasha's in Cabo," Pepper deadpanned, rolling her eyes at the archer's theatrics. "I highly doubt she can hear you." She knew Natasha's abilities extended beyond that of a normal person's, but she didn't quite yet believe that the redheaded spy had supersonic hearing.

"She could be _anywhere_," Clint emphasized, his eyes still wide. "Last week, I was talking about the last bottle of vodka to Bruce and how Tony had plans to take it, and she stuck her head through a vent and thanked me! I'd rather not take my chances now," Pepper vaguely remembered an incident in which Natasha had chased Tony around the Tower, a full bottle of vodka in her hand. It seemed to blend into all of the other times he'd been chased, though.

_It's not that I don't like your friend_

_But how many hours with him can you spend?_

_And it's not that I don't think he's great_

_But it's only you, only you_

_With whom I'll procreate..._

Pepper needed a plan to get rid of Steve. Right after she started planning Clint and Natasha's wedding. When the spy got back from Cabo, and all had been said and done, she was going to be enough of a Bridezilla for the both of them.

* * *

Tony tried to steady his nerves as he picked up the receiver, shakily dialing the number. There wasn't anything particularly nerve-wracking about this phone call-in fact, Tony was fairly sure this had a 100% chance of going well-but it was the fact that he was using a phone attached _to the wall_. Who even did that anyways? Needless to say, he didn't hold much faith in wall phones anymore. Plus, wall phones reminded him of his childhood, and no one liked trips down memory lane. They always involved Natashalie's alcohol and the next day in the med wing.

The phone rang a few times before a curt, tense voice picked up on the other end. _"Hello?"_ Another reason he was using this damn wall phone-they only picked up from landlines. _"Who are you and how did you get this number?"_ Tony tried to identify the accent-it was definitely foreign-but gave up after a couple of seconds.

"Sounds like _you _have the wrong number, mate." He couldn't resist. It really had been too good to pass up. "Phillip Coulson. Don't make me say please." The person on the other end didn't budge an inch, it seems-was that the sound of a magazine being loaded?

"_I'm going to try this again, Yank,"_ the man on the other end of the line growled. "_I've got people on my end tracing this number, and soon enough we're going to find out just what kind of bloody hell you're intending to raise. Then I'll personally come after you myself."_

"_Oh, for heaven's sake, Hunter!" _an exasperated voice (this time distinctly American) could be heard stalking into the room. Tony's head jerked back. They'd had someone named Hunter? Granted, he hadn't interacted much with the Bus team when they'd come to visit, other than Agent, those delightfully adorable scientists they called FitzSimmons, and that hacker Skye. This was definitely news. _"This is why we don't let you answer the phones anymore. You terrorize everyone on the other end."_

"_Bastard wouldn't tell me his name." _There was a sigh, before the receiver was plucked out of a hand. Skye's mildly annoyed voice came on the line. Tony could almost hear her rolling her eyes. _"Sorry about that, Stark. Hunter has a habit of being passive-aggressive to everyone he meets. Mercs, man. You never know." _A lighter tone made its way into her voice. _"What's up? Clintasha disable your system again? I knew it was a bad idea when I heard them mutter the 'power effective' code and 'computer' at the same time."_

"Coulson, please, Skye, and I need him quickly, I'm on a limited timetable." He'd actually managed to sound genuinely sad that he wasn't able to talk to her. "Did you say it was Clintasha that disabled my system? Damn. I'm going to kill them when I get back." Tony considered who he was going up against. "Or at least make their lives a living hell."

"_I'm sure May would happily assist you on that,"_ she answered, before yelling, _"AC! DC! WHATEVER SUITS YOU!"_ Skye took another deep breath before hollering at the top of her lungs, _"COULLLLLSSSOOONNNNN!"_

"_Did no one ever teach you manners about answering the phone, Skye? Yelling for the person is the __worst__ thing you can do. Ever." _Coulson barely suppressed a sigh as he picked up the receiver, speaking archly into the phone. _"What can I do for you, Stark?"_

"Remember that time you sat on Fury's pool table and broke it, and I saved your ass by blaming it on Barton?"

"_He still hasn't forgiven me for that one, you know."_

"Remember how you said you owed me for that?"

"_Why do I get the feeling you need a favor from me? And why do I get the feeling it's going to be ludicrous one?" _Well, he wasn't wrong...

"You see, it's going to turn out well for the both of us, if we play our cards right..." Tony paused for a minute, trying to figure out the best way to phrase his request. He decided to go for the blunt. "I need the thing you've got on Long Island. One night."

"_What's in it for me?"_

"Thor's still in New Mexico. Brucey and FitzSimmons are still at that sciency thingy, and Clintasha, from what I understand, is about to become the Bartons. So that leaves you, the Capsicle, and whoever else you decide to bring along for the night all alone in the Tower. Oh, and JARVIS, but that's a moot point."

Tony swore he could hear the jets of the Bus accelerating as he hung up.

* * *

"_Pepper Potts, how may I help you?"_

"Pep! How ya doin'?" he rambled, all the while hiding discreetly in a corner. Clint and Natasha, following one of their more verbal arguments about who'd eaten the last of the cheesecake in the fridge (it'd really been Thor, but no one was about to start asking questions.), was embarking on one of their rambling makeout sessions, which were best avoided to bar any mental scarring. "Look, I need you to do something for me."

"_Tony."_ Pepper sounded pleasantly surprised that he'd decided to call-and in the middle of the day, no less. _"Should I be suspicious of what you're calling me in the middle of the day for? Because the last time you called me in the middle of the day, Thor had set the kitchen on fire."_

"Well, the kitchen is most _definitely _not on fire this time," Tony chuckled, mentally berating himself for the corny comment. _Smooth, Stark, smooth!_ "I'm just calling you ahead of time to tell you to bring it all tonight. We're going all out, babe. Not missing a single stop."

"_Is Steve going to be around?" _The question slipped from Pepper's mouth before she could catch it and bring it back in. _"I love Steve, Tony, I really do, but we don't need him around __all__ the time. Can't we just find him a date already?"_

"Believe me, I've tried." Tony's snort was almost loud enough to give away his position, and he quickly stifled it, not wanting to give Clint and Natasha the satisfaction. "He keeps rejecting them all. I thought you said he met someone at the ice cream social?"

"_I did, but that date apparently did not turn out well," _Pepper sighed. _"Please tell me Steve's not going to be where we're going tonight."_

"I can promise you that, Peps. There is _no way _Stevie's getting to be where we're going to be tonight. So be ready. The date train's a-rolling." Just then, he heard the sounds of someone being slammed against the wall, accompanied by a series of moans. "I gotta go, Pep. I think Clintasha's coming around the corner, and they're in one of their sessions."

"_Again? Can't they just get a room?" _Pepper's sigh was clearly annoyed, and she made up her mind right then and there to get those two muzzles. _"I'll see you at 6:00, then. Love you."_

"Love you, too."

* * *

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Pepper asked later that night, as she was led out of the car by Tony, who was holding his hands over her eyes. "I promise you, I haven't seen anything! You've had my eyes covered for the entire trip!"

"All in good time, I promise, Pep," Tony answered jauntily, making sure she didn't trip over anything as he led her up the winded path. The sun was just beginning to set, adding emphasis to the waves that were crashing on the shore not too far from them. "Just let me guide you."

"I swear, Tony, if this is some sort of sick joke..." The threat was completely necessary, Pepper decided. She was in precariously high heels, walking on some sort of gravel path, and...were those waves she heard in the background? Had Tony really taken her to go swimming or something? "How much longer?"

"Just a few more steps, Pep, I promise." Tony's voice was growing more and more high-pitched by the minute, a sure sign that he was either extremely excited or extremely nervous. Truth be told, it could go either way. All he was sure of was that they were _not _going to get interrupted tonight.

He guided her a few more steps, turned her to face the sea, and uncovered her eyes. "Surprise!"

"_Tony!"_

They stood at the edge of a small alcove, the ramp which he'd just led her up sloping gently downwards what must have been at least fifty feet. The ocean was some distance off, and she could hear the seagulls crying in the distance. A beautiful sunset lit up the alcove, its yellows, oranges and reds each taking their turn to reflect off of the surface of the rock. The alcove itself was a dark granite, naturally forming a cave behind them, and as Pepper looked inwards, she saw a table covered in white, with a set of three candles atop of it. "Did you do this?"

"That I did," Tony answered cheerily, disappearing into the cave. Pepper followed him, her jaw dropping open as she saw that the cave's interior was outfitted with a full kitchenette, refrigerator and all. "Even made the food. Don't worry, Skye helped me out a bit." He reached into what was presumably a food warmer, pulling out two plates of chicken parmesan. Both plates were carried over to the table, and Pepper's chair was pulled out, the still-shocked blonde settling into her chair.

"But-how-" She couldn't even form coherent sentences, let alone begin to ask questions about how he'd managed to pull this all off. Pepper finally settled for a _"What?" _before taking a deep breath, collecting herself. "Tell me you didn't do this illegally."

Tony laughed at that, handing her a set of utensils. "Eat first," he said jovially. "I'll tell you the story of the entire thing once we're done with dinner. Now," he announced, pulling out a bottle of Chardonnay and pouring it into two separate glasses, "how was your day?"

"Well, aside from the fact that you called me at noon to tell me that you were taking me to-where are we, exactly?"

"Long Island."

"-to Long Island, and this jerk decided he'd pull a _Lilo and Stitch _and attempt to steal a Quinjet out from HQ and I had to send Hill to pop a cap in his ass, someone else decided to pull a Barton and burn some important paperwork, so I had to send him to the sharks at HR, and Clintasha fell out of the vents making out. How was your day?"

"Probably not as eventful as yours," Tony allowed, pouring Pepper another generous glass of wine. "I had to witness the argument between dear old Clintasha over who ate the last of the cheesecake which you _know _Thor did before he left for New Mexico, we just haven't bought any more; had a video conference with Bruce and the tiny FitzSimmons, hid from the makeout session, came out here, set up with Skye, and came back to get you. Not really that bad."

"Well, if Skye helped, it has to be good." Pepper dug into her chicken with a ferocity, cutting into it like it had personally offended her. She lifted a piece to her mouth, groaning happily as the flavor exploded on her taste buds. "That's right, Skye was the one that made the roast chicken that one night. It was pretty damn good."

"By all means, I'm glad you liked it," They lifted up their glasses in a toast, settling down to eat the food in a comfortable silence. For a while, there was nothing but the sound of utensils clinking on the plate and silent chewing, both of them relishing their alone time.

It wasn't until the plates had been cleared away, the final glass of wine repoured, and the strawberry-rhubarb pie set out that Pepper remembered to ask. "You never did tell me how you managed to set this all up. I didn't even know you owned this."

"Technically, I don't," Tony answered, scooping some pie into his mouth. "It's Coulson's. And yes, I do feel that he deserves a promotion from 'Agent' to 'Coulson'. I saved his ass from a particularly humiliating incident, and he owed me. Plus, things worked out in his favor, anyways."

"What did you let him do, Tony?" Pepper narrowed her eyes at him. "Is this going to involve some sort of paperwork for me in the morning?"

He gulped. "I hope not..."

* * *

"Ready, Steve?" Skye asked, looking extremely jazzed as the super-soldier eyed the large water pitcher of sake in front of him. Around the Bus' table, patrons were gathered just as excitedly, waiting to see this foolish man take on the sake challenge. The rumor had it that anyone that could drink the entire thing in less than five minutes without passing out would have their whole party eat for free.

Seeing that the _entire _Bus team was broke (all of their money for the month had gone towards a certain fish tank that Coulson had pined over for weeks), they were really depending on Steve to get them free meals. That, and some sushi they could probably consume in a few weeks to come. It _was _an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet, after all. The biggest surprise had probably been that Steve hadn't been to one yet.

"On your mark, get set, GO!" At that, Steve picked up the pitcher full of sake, steadily pouring it down his throat to cheers of the spectators. Next to him, May was eyeing her own sizeable bottle-she wasn't flying tonight, Bobbi was. At last, she picked it up and began to chug it down as well, the cheers increasing in volume once they noticed the petite Asian woman bringing it with the best of them.

"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" Bobbi and Hunter, who were already fairly inebriated, were raucously cheering Steve on, cheap beers in hand. "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" _Looks like I'm flying tonight, _Coulson sighed. Why did he always have to be the sober one?

Steve finished the pitcher to cheers at the same time May finished her bottle, both of them plunking their containers down onto the table at the same time. In the back of the crowd, the manager sighed before raising his camera to take a picture of a victoriously grinning Steve and a slightly waterlogged May. Once the picture was taken, the entire Bus team converged on the buffet with a Viking cheer, Skye slinging her arm around Steve.

"So, Cap, think you could take the challenges I've got in mind?"

He looked at her with a wry grin, slinging an arm around her in return.

"Why, anything for a pretty lady."

* * *

"_Tony. My office. Now."_

Five minutes later, Tony skidded into Pepper's office, a scared look on his face. Pepper stood beside her desk next to a large stack of paperwork, her foot tapping. "Care to explain what this means?"

"I have absolutely no idea," he replied, the innocence plain as day in his eyes. "Seriously, Pep. When I said I didn't do anything illegal to get the spot last night, I meant it. I had Coulson and Co. watch Steve for the night. What they did is beyond me."

"They took Steve to an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet," Pepper sighed, sitting back down. This situation had really been beyond them-the Bus team striking once more. "Steve beat the sake challenge so they all ate for free, May drank an entire bottle of sake, and they almost all drunkenly cleaned out the buffet. The restaurant has to close for a week to restock its supplies." She rubbed her temples. "Plus, Coulson nearly crashed the Bus into the middle of the reflecting pool at the Lincoln Memorial, Hunter pissed on Lincoln's statue, and Skye accidentally quaked some gangsters into submission."

For the first time, Tony looked as tired as she felt. "Did anything _good _come out of that?"

"Well, we don't have to worry about Steve crashing any more dates..." Pepper fished a folder out of the middle of the pile, opening it to the first page.

There, nestled in Steve's large arms, was Skye.

* * *

**THIS IS A REAL SONG. NO LIE. :D**

**And so ends another installment! Review? Please? Best review gets use of Coulson's alcove!**

** I'll see you guys next time! **


	40. BONUS: Everything and Nothing

**I am so sorry, but I'm not done with this week's chapter. I'm really not. It's sitting at almost 13,000 words, and there's quite a bit to go. And I wanted for you guys to have something to read, so here it is!**

**Shoutout to Kennyrrae3983, horselover95, Twyla Masters, shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod and llaw for following!**

**Best review goes to LittleMissChatterbox2009, who mentioned the reference I completely forgot was there! Have the alcove! Don't blow anything up, though.**

* * *

Natasha knew a man who was afraid to love.

She knew everything about him-how he had his morning concoction (milk tea, three half-and-halfs with two packets of sugar,), that he loved the city and its anonymity, even though a weekend in the mountains would have done just as well. She knew he had a soft spot for chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, always with that syrup that would form into a shell after you poured it. She knew that he loved avocados but absolutely _loathed _guacamole. _Chips but not the dip, _he'd said to her one day, and she'd laughed.

She knew that his eyes were a warm, summery gold, with just the slightest flecks of brown that only showed up when he was taken by surprise. A slightly off-centered nose, thanks to some shoddy work done by a surgeon after getting into a fight with his twin brother Scott over a date to the senior prom. (They'd both wanted to take Hayley Latwell; turns out she'd strung them both along anyways, and had shown up at the dance with some loser named Clark Miller.) Teeth arranged in perfect rows despite his parents being too poor to afford orthodontic work. A perfectly rounded dimple that showed up on the right side of his cheek whenever he was struck by a particularly good idea. She knew that people questioned him on his shockingly blonde hair often-had he dyed it or had he been born naturally with it? (Thanks to genetics, he'd been born with it, apparently.)

Natasha knew that he'd put everything he'd had into getting out of his sleepy small town, working to earn the only scholarship it'd offered. His first two years of college he'd spent at Kenyon in Ohio, then transferring over to NYU.

She knew it was how she'd met him. She knew that she would've hated her orientation class otherwise. She knew that her eyes had met once for twelve days straight before he'd worked up the nerve to talk to her. _I took the twenty seconds of insanity, _he'd told her, flashing her those perfect teeth. She'd laughed. Straight from _We Bought A Zoo. _She knew all of the movies he loved to watch, from _Les Mis _to _The Avengers. _She knew he never watched movies without yelling at the screen. Particularly if two characters definitely didn't belong together.

She knew that his previous girlfriend had broken his heart in the cruelest way. She knew her name had been Peggy. She knew they'd met during his tenure at Kenyon, their chemistry like a baking soda volcano. He'd given her everything he'd had, even considered moving in with her. She'd just decided that she wasn't ready to settle down, leaving him heartbroken and bent on piecing himself back together. She knew that he'd never really gotten over her, and was afraid of giving his heart again, lest he get it stomped on like Peggy had.

She knew that her entire family had advised against this. _College relationships weren't meant to be, _her brother Clint had warned her one weekend where he'd showed up back home during her high school years, having found his girlfriend with another guy. _Don't commit everything. _Natasha's mother had been more subtle, reintroducing her to her former high school classmates as if she hadn't already met them. It was her father who had been the most blunt, showing up on Visiting Day with a very convincing foam shotgun, threatening to go after anyone who made a move on her. Needless to say, quite the impression had been made, well enough that she knew to stay away from love.

This time, though, she knew was different. She knew exactly what she was walking into. Natasha _knew _everything about him. She knew that, despite his fear of loving, he would try and take the jump with her. She was absolutely sure of it. Their conversations had pretty much assured that in itself. She knew how their future would play out: he'd finish his major in dentistry, she'd major in journalism, and they'd move into a small apartment in Manhattan, not terribly rich, but not poor either. She knew that they'd have two kids, one girl named Scarlett (he really had a thing with the Avengers,) and a boy named Tobias (he had the Avengers, she had the _Divergent _trilogy. It was fair game.) They'd eventually move out to the New England suburbs, south of Boston, maybe, and be a typical family. Natasha knew that they were going to grow old together, despite the odds.

She knew everything she could've known about the both of them. The thing she wish she knew, though?

His name.

* * *

**Make what you want of that, haha.**

**Please read and review-these original lil shorts are what I'm most proud of, since they're from prompts that I get. Best review gets the next bonus dedicated to them! I'll see you guys next time! :D**


	41. Breaking Free

**TA-DA! TWENTY THOUSAND WORDS FOR EVERYBODY! Hopefully this makes up for last week, haha. Let me know what you guys think of the pairing names!**

**Shoutout to RealaCarsona, Kuyen, autumnsfire1, Jess-Cast1800, and MockingjayDivergent20 for following!**

**Best review goes to LeDbrite for being so utterly flabbergasted by the last chapter! **

**ALSO LET THIS BE KNOWN THAT I WAS FORCED TO UPDATE EARLY BY PIKAPEGASUS. *glares***

* * *

"Steve, I thought we discussed this," Philip Coulson groaned as he found his son in the rec room once more. Steve was hunched over the foosball table, muttering tactical plays as he turned the knobs back and forth. "I told you no sports on the course of this vacation. First I catch you trying to buy a football off of someone, and now this." He sighed. "Can you _ever _get away from football?"

"But Dad, the championship against HYDRA High is in three weeks!" Steve complained, still not looking up from the table. "The boys and I are going to need all the practice we can get!" He sighed, reaching for a pencil tucked behind his ear to scribble something out on the notebook perched precariously beside him. "In fact, as our coach, I'm surprised that you're not more dedicated to this than I am."

"I would, but I made a deal with your mother." Coulson's voice sounded unnaturally pained as he struggled to look over his son's shoulder. "I'm not supposed to look at anything related to sports for this entire vacation." He leaned in to Steve, whispering, "If I go down, I'm taking you down with me." Checking to make sure his wife was nowhere in sight, he squinted at the book of plays Steve had been referencing. "Move Barnes over there," he advised. "Boy's got the speed of a soldier. He'll catch the ball."

"Thanks, Dad-" Steve was about to ask another question when the telltale clicks of Maria Coulson's heels entered the room, both men struggling to make it look like they _hadn't _just been talking about sports. "Hi, Mom!" He hurriedly shoved the notebook behind him, smiling beautifically. "H-h-how's it going?" Taking in his mother's formal attire, he hastened, "You going somewhere tonight?"

_"Actually, _I came to find your father," she answered pointedly, causing Coulson to gulp and chuckle nervously. "Since it was the last night of vacation, I figured we'd go somewhere nice and relax. Steve, there's a kid's party downstairs in the lounge," she said to him. Just as Steve was about to open his mouth to protest, she added, "_Young adults. _Now go, freshen up. You smell." Her son departed with a depressed look on his face. Once he'd left the room, she fixed her husband with a disappointed look. "I see the notebook in the foosball table, Phil," she told him. "Bring it back to the room and meet me at the restaurant in ten."

"Yes, honey."

* * *

Melinda Morse sighed as she found her daughter exactly where she'd expected her to be. Bobbi was curled up on the black leather couch next to the fireplace, her nose stuck in one of her seemingly endless novels. There seemed to be no chance of moving her by simple cajoling, so she went for one of the tactics she'd had to perfect over the years. Bobbi's book was easily swiped out of her hands, the blonde making slight grabby hands towards her mother. "Bobbi, it's New Year's Eve," she chided her daughter. "Enough reading."

"But mom, I'm almost done!" When Melinda gave her a stern look, Bobbi sighed in defeat as she remembered the deal she'd made with her mother. Earlier on, she'd promised that she would _at least _attend the teen party that was scheduled for New Year's Eve. Through all of the books that had occupied her week here, she'd completely forgotten about her promise to socialize.

"The teen party," Melinda reminded her. "I've laid out your best clothes. Come on, get ready." Bobbi pouted, slumping back into the couch. It was clear that the younger Morse was about to put up a fight about going to the party. "It's only for a couple of hours. If you don't like it, you can come back and read all you want."

Bobbi looked torn for a second, debating as to whether she should fight that or not, then settled for a quiet, "...can I at least have my book back?" Melinda sighed, making a mental note to check her daughter's luggage for books the next time they went on vacation. Bobbi's battered copy of _Jane Eyre _was handed back, the young teenager squeaking with excitement before heading back to her room.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged, her long dirty blonde locks carefully arranged in a half ponytail, the other half cascading down her back. Her mother had chosen a white top that had three-quarter sleeves, the top made of crocheted mesh and buttoned together with a solitary wooden pearl. Put over a pair of her favorite dark jeans, she looked nothing like the girl who had been curled up on the couch earlier in a pair of sweatpants. It would have been a perfect picture-save for the book in her left hand.

Melinda debated trying for the last time to make her daughter leave the book, but decided against it-she'd tried it once when Bobbi was sixteen, and that had _not _turned out well for either party. "Alright, off you go. Have fun, honey." Bobbi started out the door, opening her book and beginning to read as soon as she got out of the room. "Honey." She looked up, startled. "The party's the other way."

* * *

Some time later, dressed smartly in a dark blue shirt and jeans, Steve made his way down to the party, which was already in full swing. He saw some of the kids he'd gone snowboarding with earlier on stage, belting their hearts out. In the back of his head, he mentally shuddered. He'd seen his fair share of people singing at school, but it didn't really feel like something he would _do, _per se. Steve edged himself into a corner, hoping that he could just pass a couple of hours in peace without needing to talk to anyone, then go back to his room and work on the plays once more.

He _really _should've tried to get the notebook back.

Across the room, Bobbi shyly navigated her way around the crowd, piping up barely-there 'excuse-me's and 'sorry's. Finally, she found the perfect couch on which to read her book, and she settled in, opening it with a happy sigh. She didn't know how much reading she was going to be able to get done, though-the two snowboarders on stage currently butchering the karaoke machine were making it awfully hard for her to concentrate. Bobbi would have never had the courage to get up there, but she definitely would have done better than they did.

'All right! How about that for a couple of snowboarders?" the emcee asked, to cheers from the crowd. "Now, that was Dylan and Ryan, with a _great _rendition of 'Baby Got Back'. Sure something I'd like to see again." His English accent clearly showed his sarcasm, much to everyone's amusement. "Who's gonna rock the house next?"

The spotlight swung around and around, its white circle showing no mercy on who was to be its next victim. The noise level increased dramatically with the suspense, and finally built to a head as it landed on Steve, confusion clearly written on his puppy-dog features. "Oh! You!"

"I can't sing," Steve tried to explain to the kids who were egging him to go onstage. "Really, I don't. You go. No, seriously, man, you go." He tried in vain to get anyone else to go up onto that stage except for him. Steve really would rather _die _than get up on stage.

"And you!" The spotlight glared on Bobbi, who looked up from her book, squinting in confusion at the source of all of the revelry. Her features immediately turned to shock and horror, and she dove back into her book, hoping to avoid the humiliation of getting called up to sing karaoke. "Come on up!" She looked around wildly for anyone to replace her-someone, _anyone, _like Rochester had looked for Jane-but there was no one. Sighing, she slowly made her way to the stage, clutching her book like it was her life preserver.

Steve and Bobbi made it on stage, refusing to look at each other, as the emcee stepped up beside them with microphones. Steve reluctantly took his, but Bobbi simply stared at it like it was a mirage, finally putting her book down carefully before reaching for it. Below them, the crowd of teens cheered loudly, only fueling their fear. Somewhere inside of them, both of them hoped that the other was part of the unspoken deal that neither of them would mention this ever again.

"Hey, you know what? Someday you guys might thank me for this," the emcee said, patting them on the back before departing the stage.

"What's your name?" Bobbi spoke quietly, but it was enough to catch the attention of Steve and the emcee, who turned around to answer her.

"Hunter." Bobbi shot him an icy glare, one she wasn't exactly sure was getting through, having never had to actually use it on someone. She'd really only practiced it in the mirror...and on her mother once, when her books had been taken away.

"Hunter, hm?" He nodded. "We're not going to thank you for this. Ever." Hunter simply shrugged and stepped off of the stage, the cheers of the crowd rising up once again. Steve and Bobbi looked awkwardly in different directions of the club, waiting for the music to start. The beginning strains of piano began to drift in, and each of them mentally sighed, waiting for the words to come on so they could just get it over with.

_Living in my own world  
Didn't understand  
That anything can happen  
When you take a chance_

Bobbi was quietly surprised that the boy had started singing first-no guy, ever, in the history of her entire life singing, had any guy volunteered to sing first. She'd always been the one to take lead, and it was a refreshing change of pace to follow, not lead. Besides, he didn't sound half bad. If he was willing to humiliate himself in front of a crowd, she figured she might as well suck it up and make a fool of herself with him.

_I never believed in_

_What I couldn't see_

_I never opened my heart_

_To all the possibilities_

It took everything Steve had not to let his jaw drop at the voice he heard next to him. Whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly wasn't _this. _What he was hearing was the closest thing on this earth to an angel's voice. It was soft and quiet, but with a edge to it that made it shimmer, like the pure peal of a bell.

_I know_

_That something has changed_

_Never felt this way_

_And right here tonight_

_This could be the start of something new_

_It feels so right_

_To be here with you_

At first they'd only looked at each other out of necessity, to make sure that they'd be singing the right words and not going out of sync. But once Steve's blue eyes met Bobbi's brown ones, there was no going back for either of them.

_And now I'm lookin' in your eyes_

_I feel in my heart (Feel in my heart)_

_The start of something new_

_Now who'd have ever thought that_

_We'd both be here tonight_

Steve could feel himself smiling, every word coming out of his mouth a repetition of the truth he wanted to tell to the girl. He even gripped the microphone and pulled out some dance moves, making her laugh as she continued the verse:

_And the world looks so much brighter_

_Brighter, brighter_

_Oh, with you by my side_

_By my side_

There was something interesting about this boy, Bobbi decided. Not only had he shattered all of her expectations of what someone with his appearance was like, but he captivated her bookish little self. It was enough that she held the microphone a little more bravely, a smile lighting up her face as she got lost in his eyes.

_I know that something has changed, never felt this way_

_I know it for real_

_This could be the start of something new_

_It feels so right to be here with you_

_And now looking in your eyes_

_I feel in my heart_

_The start of something new_

_I never knew that it could happen till it happened to me_

Steve, on a pure whim of insanity, belted out the line, the emotion getting to be a bit too much for him. For some reason, he was really getting into the song. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was New Year's Eve. Maybe it had something to do with the girl beside him-the girl he barely knew, but was somehow forming a connection with.

_I didn't know it before but now it's easy to see_

_It's the start of something new_

_It feels so right to be here with you_

_And now I'm lookin' in your eyes_

_I feel in my heart_

_That it's the start of something new_

_It feels so right to be here with you_

_And now looking in your eyes_

_I feel in my heart (Feel in my heart)_

_The start of something new_

_The start of something new_

_The start of something new_

Steve and Bobbi, flushed with the thrill of their success, had eyes only for each other as the crowd erupted into cheers, confetti falling gently from the ceiling. They wanted to say something, perhaps a witty one-liner or compliment, but what came out was far simpler:

"Steve."

"Bobbi."

* * *

"But seriously, you have an amazing voice," Steve protested as he emerged from the lounge with Bobbi, each of them holding an identical cup of hot chocolate. Bobbi had just told him she'd never really sung before, a fact that still had his mind reeling. Something had to be up. "You're a singer, right?"

"Just church choir is all," she answered, shyly ducking her head. "I tried to solo once and nearly fainted." Oh, how Bobbi even hated to bring up that memory. It'd all been Melinda's idea, anyways. Bobbi had totally been against soloing during the hymns-something like that was certainly asking for trouble. And humiliation. She almost hadn't lived it down.

"Really? Why is that?" She struck Steve as the type of person who was confident and witty, and really not afraid to do anything at all. It was hard to believe the girl he'd just sung with had nearly fainted in front of a church crowd.

"I looked at the people staring at me, and the next thing I knew, I was staring at the ceiling," Bobbi answered, the whole incident seeming extremely funny now that she thought about it. She let out a little bubbly giggle that had Steve staring at her in wonder. "End of solo career."

"Well, the way you sang tonight, I kind of find that hard to believe," he told her honestly. Steve had given many a compliment during his lifetime, but there hadn't been many he meant completely.

"That was the first time I did that," Bobbi admitted, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "It was so cool."

"I know! Completely!" _Hm. _Not only had Steve managed to rock his first time doing karaoke, he'd done it with another first-timer. There was some serious luck going on here.

"You sound like you've sung a lot, too," she said, easily directing the conversation back to him. They'd talked about her long enough, she figured. If there was anything she knew about getting to know people, it was always to talk about them first.

"Yeah, sure," Steve answered nonchalantly, and Bobbi looked surprised. She was just glad she hadn't made a complete fool of herself in front of a veteran singer. "My showerhead is very impressed with me." _Never mind. _She laughed a little at her mental jump to conclusions.

"_10...9...8..." _Around them, the crowd began to count down, the beginnings of the New Year soon upon them. Bobbi and Steve looked nervously at each other, then away. They both knew it was tradition to kiss the person next to them when the countdown hit zero, but they'd just met each other...but there _was _something...

"_3...2...1..HAPPY NEW YEAR!" _As moment passed, and 2014 became 2015, it didn't seem awkward to either of them. The lights of the fireworks lit up over their faces, a comfortable silence settling like a blanket.

"I guess I'd better go find my mom and wish her a Happy New Year," It was Bobbi who first broke the silence, hating the way her voice sounded._ God! That really did sound like a pitiful excuse. _

"Yeah, me too," Steve answered distantly, wondering mentally if he'd done something wrong. "I mean, not your mom. My mom...and dad." He knew that they were both ensconced at the restaurant, and probably would be for at least another hour. But he couldn't let such a chance meeting end on an awkward note. "Uh...I'll call you!" Yes! There was the answer. He pulled out his phone as Bobbi pulled out hers, each of them exchanging devices. "Here, put your number in."

There was a click of a shutter as each of them took a selfie together, Bobbi handing Steve's phone back to him before melting back into the crowd. Steve, however, was still too busy looking over the contact info to notice that she was gone.

"Just so you know, singing with you was the most fun I've had on this vacation," he spoke sincerely. "So, um..where do you live?" He looked up, only to find that Bobbi had been long gone. He spoke back to the picture of the smiling girl on his cell phone. "Bobbi."

* * *

The sun shone radiantly on SHIELD High as the bus pulled up, several students spilling out of it chattering animatedly. One of those people was indeed Steve Coulson, and he was immediately flanked by the rest of the football team, led by his best friend, Bucky Barnes.

"Happy New Year, bro!" Bucky exclaimed, patting his best friend on the back in the way only guys could. "No, wait, better make that a happy _Spider _New Year! In two weeks, we're going to the championships with you leading us to infinity and beyond. _What team?_" he exclaimed to the crowd behind him.

"_SHIELD SPIDERS!"_

"What team?"

"_SHIELD SPIDERS!"_

"WHAT TEAM?!"

"_SHIELD SPIDERS!"_

The boys erupted into cheers as they entered the building, other students immediately swarming them. It was no secret that the football team was the most popular group in the school-and with someone like Steve as president, they were sure to keep their popularity for a long, long time.

That crowd soon parted, however, for the presence of one very icy Antonia Potts pushing her way through, both eyes glued to her cell phone as it beeped and tweeted. They let out an 'ooh!' as she pushed through everyone with one manicured hand, completely used to her reign as queen of the school. Her ever faithful brother, Clint, followed behind, engrossed in his own phone.

"The ice princess has returned from the North Pole," Bucky joked, sniggering at Antonia. "Spent the holidays the way she always does."

Just for the sake of a punch line, one of the guys asked, "How's that?"

"Shopping for mirrors!" The crowd let out another 'oh!' as they continued on, unaware that they were being watched by yet another crowd that wasn't afraid to dish it as they saw it. Jemma Simmons peered out from behind a corner, her fellow scientists surrounding her as she wrinkled her nose at the football players.

"Ugh, behold the zoo animals heralding the new year," she sniffed, while the girls around her agreed. "How tribal." The bell rang at that moment, and Jemma waved ecstatically to her friends, bouncing off to homeroom before she could be marked late.

* * *

"Mom, my stomach-"

"Is always nervous on the first day of a new school," Melinda finished for her daughter, having been through this dialogue too many times. She hated moving Bobbi around so much, but it was one of the drawbacks to her otherwise well-paying and successful job. "You'll do great. You always do." Taking her daughter aside, she told her, "I made my company promise that I can't be transferred again until you graduate."

"I reviewed your impressive transcripts," the principal, Bruce Banner, chipped in. "Your light will shine very brightly here at SHIELD High." He seemed kind enough, Bobbi decided, as he handed her a new student packet and a map of the school. "Your homeroom's circled here on the map." And with that, he went off, presumably back to his office.

"I don't wanna be the school's freaky genius girl again," Bobbi admitted to her mother, a worried look on her face. She'd tried that at the last school-it had only gotten her a pile of teasing and no one that wanted to be seen with her.

"Just be Bobbi," Melinda assured her, patting her on the back. "Go. Off to homeroom. You'll have a great first day, I promise." She, too, departed, leaving Bobbi clutching her map with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

She managed to make her way to homeroom just before the tardy bell rang, brushing her way past everyone to a seat in the back-hopefully no one would end up noticing her. Plopping into her seat, she sighed, taking in her surroundings. Another semester, another school...and hopefully she'd be graduating from this one.

Steve cut off the conversation he was having with Bucky to the girl that had just passed him, her dirty blonde hair suddenly becoming very familiar. _Could it actually be...? Nah. There's no way. _Any further thoughts were cut off by Antonia elbowing her way to his seat, catching him in the gut. "Hi, Steve," she said silkily, sitting primly in her seat. He barely managed to squeeze out a 'hi' before the bell rang.

"I trust you all had _splendid _holidays," His homeroom teacher, Ms. Fury, strode in with a dramatic flair, her clipboard and full-frame glasses in hand. "Check the sign-up sheet in the lobby for new activities, _Mr. Rogers,_" she warned as Steve slid into his seat, thoroughly chastened. "Especially for our winter muscale. We will have singles auditions and pairs auditions for our two leads."

Behind him, Bucky snorted, putting a thumbs-down with a 'Pffft'.

"_Mr. _Barnes, this is a place of learning, not a _hockey arena_." Ms. Fury went on with her lecture as if nothing had happened at all, and continued, "There is also a final sign-up for next week's scholastic decathlon competition. Chem club president Jemma Simmons-" Jemma waved to the class. "-can answer your questions about that."

Steve, who had continuously been sneaking looks towards the back of the class, had grown more and more sure that the girl currently hiding in the back was indeed the same one he'd met that magical New Year's Eve. There was only one way to find out. Slowly, he drew out his cell phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Bobbi's. His thumb hesitated over the call button, but in a fit of madness, it was pushed and the call went through.

In the back of the room, Bobbi jumped as her cell phone began blaring out a rendition of "Start of Something New", her face flushing when she realized it could only be one person. She quickly bent down to fumble through her bag, cursing herself for leaving her phone on loud. In the front, both Antonia and Clint jumped, fumbling for their cell phones. When neither of them came up showing messages, they turned to the other, chorusing, "Was it you?"

"Ah, the cell phone menace has returned to the crucible of learning!" Ms. Fury announced with an air, picking up her garishly decorated bucket for cell phones. The thing had been in service for ten years now, and hadn't failed her yet. "Antonia and Clint, cell phones, and I will see you in detention." Antonia dropped her cell phone into the bucket with a loud _clunk_, a look of affront on her face. Clint's followed, albeit more depressedly.

"We have zero tolerance for cell phones in class, so we will get to know each other in detention." Ms. Fury had stalked towards Bobbi, who was frantically trying to silence her phone. "Cell phone. And welcome to SHIELD High, Ms. Morse." Steve hurriedly tried to put away his phone, but to no avail. "Mr. Rogers, I see your phone is involved, too. So we will see you in detention as well."

"That-that-that's not even a possibility, Ms. Fury, Your Honor," Bucky chimed in, wanting to save his best friend from the horrors of musicale set painting. "See, we have football practice, me and Steve..."

"Ah, that will be 15 minutes for you too, Mr. Barnes," Ms. Fury told him. "Count 'em." Bucky slumped down into his chair-he'd just gotten the thing he'd tried to hard to avoid.

"Could be tough for Bucky," Jemma snarked to the surrounding students. "He can't count that high."

"Jemma Simmons!" Ms. Fury barked, slamming her bucket on the desk. "15 minutes!" Jemma gasped. She'd never gotten a detention in her life! "Shall the carnage continue? The holidays are over, people, OVER! Now, any more comments, questions?" The entire room stayed silent, until Pietro Maximoff raised his hand and asked,

"So, how were your holidays, Ms. Fury?"

The entire class groaned, but were saved by the bell. They all slumped out of homeroom, irked at the thought of detention. "Sorry, man, see you in detention," Bucky muttered, slapping Steve on the back. "She's crazy."

"It's all good, it's all good," Steve reassured him, his mind still attempting to process the fact that _Bobbi _was actually here. _Bobbi_. Somehow, through a random twist of fate, he was now seeing the girl that, three days ago, he was certain he'd never see again. And now, here she was, fumbling with her book bag. Steve waited until all of his friends had dispersed, then hurried over to her. "Hey!"

Bobbi looked up in shock. "I don't-"

"Believe it. Yeah, well, me-"

"-either. But how?" Steve was utterly confused, and Bobbi had to admit he looked the _tiniest _bit cute when he did that.

"My mom's company transferred her over here to DC. I can't believe you live here, I looked for you at the lodge on New Year's Day-"

"We had to leave first thing."

Bobbi paused for a second, the confusion now written on _her _face. "Why are you whispering?"

"Uh..." How to phrase this without looking bad was Steve's question of the day..."My friends know about me going snowboarding. I haven't quite yet told them about the whole...singing thing." Just as he finished the sentence, some other football players walked by, the boys exchanging an intricate handshake before Steve turned back to Bobbi.

"Too much for them to handle?" she asked knowingly. Really. She knew what that was like. Once, in middle school, she'd spent an entire semester with a group of kids who'd thought she was the most stylistic girl ever, only to find out she was a freaky genius.

"No, no, it's cool, but it's, uh...you know, my friends, it's not what I do. That was like a different person." The explanation Steve struggled to offer to Bobbi only made the whole situation worse. Time to quit while he was still even _remotely _ahead. "So, uh, welcome to SHIELD High." They stopped at the sign-up board for the spring musicale. "And now that you've met Ms. Fury, I bet you just can't _wait _to sign up for that."

"I won't be signing up for anything for a while," Bobbi admitted, hugging her textbook tightly to her chest. "I just wanna get to know the school." She took a moment before adding shyly, "But if you signed up, I'd consider coming to the show."

"Me? No, that's impossible," Steve snorted. He'd never be in the musicale. Not in a million years.

"What's impossible, Steve?" Antonia appeared out of nowhere, wielding a large pink pen in her hand. Slowly approaching the board, she signed her name in large, loopy calligraphy on the board, adding a small 'and Clint' on it next to her name. "I didn't think 'impossible' was actually in your vocabulary." It was then that she noticed Bobbi, putting on a fake simper. "So nice of you to show our new classmate around." Antonia motioned to the board, as if just considering the fact that just _maybe _Bobbi would sign up for auditions. "Oh, were you going to sign up too? My brother and I have starred in all of the school's productions. We _really _welcome newcomers. There are a lot of supporting roles. I'm sure we could find something for you."

"No, no, no, no, I was just looking at all of the bulletin boards," Bobbi stammered, cowed by Antonia's speech. "Lots going on at this school." She turned to Steve, who looked flabbergasted at the hostility Antonia was producing. "I'll catch you later." Bobbi turned to leave, but decided to make one last parting remark. "Nice penmanship."

The bell rang once more, and Antonia cut up with with Steve as he headed to her next class, beginning to hang over him now that Bobbi was gone. "So, Steve, I missed you during vacation," she chirped. "What'd you do?"

"Oh, you know. Snowboarding, football, more snowboarding." He wasn't about to mention the deal he'd made with his father. Or the fact that he'd met Bobbi during a karaoke contest.

"When's the big game?"

"Two weeks."

"You are so dedicated. Just like me!" And just like that, the world revolved once more around Antonia-just the way she liked it. "I hope you come watch me in the musical. Promise?" The look in her pleading brown eyes was almost too much for Steve, who was reduced to a strangled, 'Sure'. "Toodles!"

"...Toodles."

* * *

"Dude, you know that school musical thing?" Steve asked Bucky later that day, as they were beginning to stretch for football practice. "I heard you get extra credit just for auditioning."

"Who cares?" Bucky asked, going into a lunge. "It's just the musical." _That was strange, _he thought. Never, in their entire lives, had Steve been interested for the musical. And now, here they were, and here _it _was, being brought as a topic. Was the world ending or something?

"It's always good to get extra credit," Steve muttered, throwing a practice kick. "You know, for college..."

"You think Tom Brady or Tim Tebow auditioned for their school musical?" Bucky asked, coming back around to stretch his quads. "Trust me, bro. They didn't." He sighed, stretching out the other leg. "Look, the music in these shows isn't hip-hop, or rock, or anything even close to culture. It's like..show music. It's all _costumes _and makeup." He shuddered. "Dude, it's frightening."

"Yeah, I just thought...you know. It'd be a good laugh," Steve played off, shrugging nonchalantly. "Antonia's kind of cute, too."

"Yeah, and so is the Hulk," Pietro snorted. "You don't try to tame it." A whistle sounded at the other end of the field, and Coulson's voice could be heard ringing through the air. Each of the boys straightened up as if they were in the presence of

"Alright, Spiders! Pair up!"

Steve and Bucky immediately fell into the beginning of the football team's formation, Bucky taking off towards the other end of the field while Steve rushed towards the ball, the defense rushing towards him at the same time.

_Coach said to feint right and break left_

_Watch out for the kick_

_and keep an eye on defense_

_Gotta run the give and go_

_and take the ball to the goal_

_And don't be afraid to throw the outside "J"_

Steve grunted as he was nearly slammed by a receiver, just managing to avoid it with a slippery bit of footwork that left the receiver scratching his head in question as to where his target had gone. Steve continued down the field, the football clutched in his hands.

_Just keep your head in the game_

_Just keep your head in the game_

_And don't be afraid to throw the outside "J"_

_Just keep your head in the game_

_You gotta get your head in the game_

_We gotta get our, get our, get our, get our head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your head in the game_

_We gotta get our, get our, get our, get our head in the game_

_Come on, get your, get your head in the game_

_We gotta get our, get our, get our, get our head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your head in the game_

_Come on, get my, get my head in the game_

Steve made a perfect spiral throw to Bucky, whooping as it sailed through the sunny day and right into Bucky's arms, the other boy running it straight into the end zone. He threw it down to the ground with a large yell, jogging back to Steve and switching places with the quarterback.

_Let's make sure_

_that we get the rebound_

_'Cause when we get it then the crowd'll go wild_

_A second chance, gotta grab it and go_

_Maybe this time we'll hit the right notes_

As the ball sailed through the air, Steve took a minute to process what he'd just said. _What?_

_Wait a minute, not the time and place, wait a minute, get my head in the game_

_Wait a minute get my head in the game_

_Wait a minute, wait a minute_

_I gotta get my, get my head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your, get your, get your head in the game_

_I gotta get my, get my head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your, get your, get your head in the game_

_I gotta get my, get my head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your, get your, get your head in the game, whoo_

The ball came out of nowhere, smacking Steve in the head, causing him to fall to the ground clutching his skull. Bucky and Coulson surrounded him immediately, Pietro following closely once he'd realized his beloved captain was down.

_Why am I feeling so wrong?_

_My head's in the game but my heart's in the song_

_She makes this feel so right_

_Should I go for it?_

_I better shake this, Yikes!_

Shaking his head, Steve hoisted himself up to claps on the back from Coulson and Bucky, Pietro feeding him encouraging words to boost him. He jogged back down to the end zone, waiting for Bucky to throw him the ball.

_I gotta get my, get my head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your, get your, get your head in the game_

_I gotta get my, get my head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your, get your, get your head in the game_

_Come on, get my, get my head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your, get your, get your head in the game_

_I gotta get my, get my head in the game_

_You gotta get your, get your, get your, get your head in the game_

With a whoop, Coulson blew his whistle on the team. "Alright, hit the showers!"

* * *

It was the next day in chemistry that Antonia pounced, throwing all of her finesse on the unsuspecting Bobbi. "So. It seemed like you knew Steve Rogers." Because really, in what universe did they belong together? In absolutely none was the answer. Steve Rogers belonged to _her_.

"Not really," Bobbi shrugged, attempting to focus on the pre-calculus equation that was being written on the blackboard in front of her. "He was just showing me around." She wasn't stupid-Bobbi knew Antonia had some sort of designs on Steve-but she wasn't about to address them.

"Well, Steve doesn't really interact with new students," Antonia laughed quickly, mentally wondering why Bobbi hadn't yet given in to insecurity and begged her for advice. They always did at this point in the conversation...

"Uh, why not?" _There was something seriously wrong with this equation, _Bobbi mused, squinting between her own work and the paper. "That should be 16 over pi..." she muttered to herself, her comment being unfortunately being picked up by the teacher.

"Yes, Miss Morse?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Bobbi stammered, her face going red. "Um...just...shouldn't that second equation read 16 over pi?"

"16 over pi? That's quite impossible." the teacher asked, frowning at her. Bobbi got a sinking feeling in her stomach, sure that she'd just embarrassed herself in front of the entire class. The teacher checked her work, letting out a small 'hmph'. "I stand corrected. Oh," she said finally to Bobbi, who was glowing with relief. "Welcome aboard."

* * *

"Steve Rogers was looking at our audition list," Antonia declared to Clint later that day, skidding to a stop in front of her twin brother. "Again." As they started to walk, she huffed before continuing, "There's something freaky about that girl. Where did she say she was from again?"

Five minutes later, they had her answer. Antonia was ruthlessly surfing the internet, scouring every corner to try and find even a trace of the girl known as Bobbi Morse.

It turns out they didn't even need to look that far.

"Wow. An Einsteinette," Clint said, clearly impressed. "So why do you think she's interested in our musical?" Antonia just gave him a look that told him he was _clearly _being naive.

"I'm not sure that she is," she muttered back, her mind already going into plotting mode. "And we needn't consider ourselves amateurs. "The only way to get rid of an animal out of place was to put it back into its natural habitat, Antonia figured. And she was about to graciously put Bobbi back into hers. "But..there is no harm in making sure that Bobbi's welcome to..._certain _activities that are...well, appropriate for her. After all..." With a push of the button, an article displaying Bobbi's latest academic achievements was printed out. Antonia quickly snatched it up, heading out of the library. "...she loves pi."

* * *

"Gold! Gold! More paint! Let's go!" The scene in the theater was one that was plenty familiar to the theater veteran-depressed cast members slathering paint on sections everywhere, some dramatically adding sparkles as they went. Ms. Fury was circling them all like a hawk, barking at them whenever something wasn't correct.

"The answer is yes!" Jemma came dashing up to Bobbi, who, up until that point, had been casually painting a bright blue moon.

"Huh?" Confusion seemed to be a lead emotion for Bobbi these days. She wasn't sure if she liked it.

"Our scholastic decathlon team has its first team competition next week, and there is _certainly _a spot for you!" Jemma was practically bouncing with excitement. She'd read everything there was to read about the genius, from her various transcripts to her winning personality. It was safe to say that Jemma was a _bit _of a fangirl.

Bobbi, however, was a bit less enthusiastic. "Where did you get those?" she asked, pointing to the paper. She hadn't expected anyone to dig up her old articles, much less start to see her as a genius. At least, not until this semester was over.

Jemma's expression mirrored Bobbi's. "Didn't you put them in my locker?" Horror washed over Jemma at the thought that someone had broken into her locker. _If someone broke into my locker, I swear to god I'm going to find them, hunt them down, and kill them slowly..._

"...of course not." There was a slight pause between the two of them, before Jemma piped up excitedly,

"Well, we'd love to have you on our team. We meet almost everyday after school." Deciding her pride couldn't get any lower, she burst out, _"Please?"_

"I need to catch up on the curriculum here before I join any clubs," Bobbi answered honestly, and it was true-her current literature class was covering _Native Son _while her old school had only been at _The Awakening_. Naturalism it was, easy it was not.

"But what a way to get caught up, meeting with the smartest kids in school," Antonia bumped her way into the conversation, missing the way both girls rolled her eyes. "What a generous offer, Jemma!" Jemma herself resisted the urge to make a snappy comeback-she didn't need more detention on her hands.

"So many new faces in detention today," Ms. Fury declared as she swept into the room. "I hope you all don't make a _habit _of it!" She emphasized the point with a glare, making everyone recoil. "But, should you do, the Drama Club could always use an extra hand! And while we are working," The entire room heard the unspoken groan, but the drama teacher went on anyways. "let us probe the mounting evils of cell phones..."

* * *

"Alright team, huddle up!" Coulson called, bringing his team in. They all gathered, a sweaty mess, as he prepared to give them a pep talk. "We've got two weeks 'till the big game, and-" He stopped upon realizing that two key people were missing. "Where's Steve and Bucky?"

Nobody answered. "WHERE'S STEVE AND BUCKY?"

"_Detention..." _was their gloomy reply.

* * *

"Perhaps the most heinous example of cell-phone abuse is in the theater. What temerity! The theater is a temple of art, a precious cornucopia of creative energy, a-"

"Where's my team, Fury?"

It seemed that Ms. Fury had been going through another one of her dramatic monologues before Coulson stormed in, looking absolutely livid. As he saw Steve and Bucky working next to a tree, he had to ask. "And what the heck are you two doing in a tree?"

"It's called crime and punishment, Coulson," Fury answered, just as passionately. "Besides, proximity to the arts is cleansing for the soul." She couldn't say what Rogers and Barnes were doing in a tree, but she trusted they were serving their time.

"Can we have a talk? Please?" Coulson asked through gritted teeth, before turning to Steve and Bucky and saying, "And you two? In the gym? _Now_?" Steve hastily got off of his chair, shoving Bucky, who had been sleeping inside the tree. The latter nearly fell out, stumbling to the edge of the stage holding a football like it was his baby.

"If they have to paint sets for detention, they can do it tonight, not during my practice," Coulson was complaining later to Principal Banner, while Fury just looked miffed.

"If these were theater performers, would you seek special treatment?"

"Fury, we are days away from our biggest game of the year," Coulson ground out, extremely frustrated with Fury's ability to understand any type of sports. He'd tried every sort of negotiation possible-trade, reward, bribe...and _nothing _had worked!

"And _we, _Fury, are in the midst of auditions for our winter musicale as well!" Fury retorted. She didn't expect Coulson to understand. He didn't understand the responsibility that came with running a show. "This school is more than just about young men wearing awful padding and shooting baskets!"

"Touchdowns," Coulson said weakly, not even bothering to correct her. "They make touchdowns." There had been a particularly interesting incident in which, for a senior prank, Fury had once been showered with multiple sports balls. It was a topic still occasionally addressed in the teacher's lounge.

"Guys, you've had this argument since you both started teaching here," Bruce answered, trying his best to soothe the ruffled feathers for both parties. "We are one school, one student body, _one faculty!_ Can one not agree on that?"

After a moment of silence, he picked up a foam football and let it go towards a poster on the back of his door. "So, Coach, how's the team looking? Steve got 'em whipped into shape?" It was no secret that Bruce secretly favored the football team; and now it was actually confirmed.

Ms. Fury could only let out a muffled scream.

* * *

"We've never made it past the first round of our scholastic decathalon," Jemma blabbered as she crossed the courtyard with Bobbi, her roller backpack following her. "You could be our answered prayer." The worst round had been her sophomore year, Jemma decided, when they'd accidentally blown the lab up.

"I'm focusing on my studies this semester," Bobbi automatically rattled off, her own backpack slung across her shoulder. "and then I'm going to help my mom get the house organized. Maybe next year," she offered. It was just that she didn't want to be the freaky genius again. Sure, everyone had been nice enough to her, but...She stopped short. "Hey, what do you know about Steve Rogers?"

Jemma snorted, not even noticing Bobbi's change in subject. "Steve? Hmm. Well, I'm not an expert on that particular brand of sub-species, however, unless you speak cheerleader. Watch and learn." She flounced up to a group of cheerleaders, her hand to her mouth. Bobbi could only watch in mild amusement as she gasped, "Ohmygod! Isn't Steve Rogers like, _the _hottie super-bum?" The cheerleaders around them gasped and dissolved into chatter, most of it about the star quarterback as Bobbi and Jemma moved on. "See what I mean?" she asked, her dopey expression disappearing.

"...I don't speak cheerleader," Bobbi confessed on a chuckle. The truth was, she _had _been a cheerleader as a young girl, even competing on a gymnastics team at the age of ten, but her mom's moving schedule had become too much for her, preferring to retreat inside of her books instead.

"We exist in an alternate universe to Steve the football boy," Jemma announced with relish.

"Have you tried to get to know him?" Really, everyone seemed so set on keeping their roles, Bobbi mused. Why didn't they want to take the chance to get to know people?

"Watch how it works when you sit at lunch tomorrow with us," Jemma assured her. She'd tried getting to know people plenty of times before-they'd never turned out well. "Unless you'd rather sit with the cheerleaders and discuss the importance of firm nail beds." It was a low blow and she knew it, but she _needed _Bobbi and her biochemistry success on the team. Word had it she was the best in the nation.

"...my nail beds are history," Bobbi admitted, holding up her fingers. They'd been out of existence since circa seventh grade, when she'd started having trouble with algebra. She'd gotten out of that phase, thankfully, but other subjects had cropped up.

Jemma stopped, holding up her own fingers in excitement. "Sister!"

* * *

"I still don't understand this whole detention thing," Coulson said to Steve later that day, throwing the football across the field to his son. After having an unsuccessful conversation with Fury about keeping his star players out of detention, he'd decided that the only way to fix it was to talk to the players themselves.

"It was my fault," Steve huffed, kicking the ball back to his father in a perfect punt. "Sorry, Dad."

"Fury will take any opportunity to bust my ass," Coulson panted, having just caught the ball with a wheeze in the stomach. "That includes yours, too. I need you, Barnes and Maximoff to stay out of detention." He motioned with one hand. "Go long."

After Steve had caught the ball once again, he came up to his father, unsure of how to start. "Hey, Dad?" He stopped, fingering the football in his hand. "Did you ever want to try something new, but were afraid of what your friends might think?"

"What, like feinting left? You're doing fine."

"No, Dad. Not that. It's..." Steve stopped again, frustrated at his lack of words. "I mean, what if you wanna try something new, and it's a total disaster, and all your friends laugh at you?" Seeing that his son was absolutely serious, he stopped.

"Well, then maybe they're not really your friends." Somewhere, deep in his head, he knew that this was more than just football, but pushed that away. "That's been my whole point about the team this entire season. You gotta look out for each other, especially you, Steve. You're the leader." And with that, the conversation was right back to the game. "There's gonna be a lot of college scouts at our game next week. You know what a college scholarship is worth these days?"

Steve nodded. "A lot."

"Yeah, so you gotta focus. Go long!"

* * *

"I trust we all learned our homeroom manners yesterday, people, correct?" Ms. Fury asked as she stalked between the aisles of the classroom, bucket dangling menacingly in her hand. "If not, we do have some dressing rooms that need painting. Now, for a few announcements," she began as the bell rang. "This morning during free period will be your chance for the muscale auditions, both singles and pairs. I will be in the theater until noon for those of you brave enough to extend the wingspan of your creative spirit. Discussing the importance of Shakespeare..."

"Dude, when's she due back on the mothership?"

* * *

"So we're thinking about hitting the fields during free period," Bucky said to Steve as the exited the clutches of Ms. Fury's homeroom. "What did you want to run?"

_Time to throw it into motion. _"Well, see, I can't make it," Steve apologized, scratching the back of his head so it would look like he was more sincere. "I gotta catch up on some homework."

"_What?_" Bucky couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Hello, it's only the second day back. I'm not even behind on homework yet." He relaxed then, falling back into a joking manner. "Kidding. I've been behind on homework since preschool." The two of them shared a laugh, but then Steve disappeared with a brief, 'So yeah, I'll see you later' before disappearing into a classroom. Bucky stared after him for a second, not believing a word of it. "Homework? There's no way."

Meanwhile, Steve was ducking and weaving his way across the school, attempting to get across campus in the most discreet way possible. This unfortunately _did _involve ducking through the metal shop, explaining to the mechanic, "Sorry. Shortcut. Late for class," before rushing right through the door.

* * *

"This is where the true expression of the artist is realized," Ms. Fury began, once again situated in the hallows of her beloved theater. "Where inner truth is realized through the actor's journey-" She was cut off by the sound of the warning bell. "WAS THAT A CELL PHONE?!"

"No, ma'am, that was the warning bell," a theater hand said meekly.

"Ah. Those wishing to audition must realize that time is of the essence. We have many roles to cast and final callbacks will be next week. First, you will sing a few bars, and I will give you a sense of whether or not the theater is to your calling. Better to hear it from me now than from your friends later! Our composer, Skye Johnson," She gestured to the shy composer hidden by the piano. "will accompany you and will be available to rehearsals prior to callbacks.

"Shall we?"

Most of the auditions passed fairly quickly, with a slew of mediocre singers and some just plain insulting to the theater. Ms. Fury didn't say that out loud-it was her job to let them down gently, after all-but simply sighed as she crossed off name after name.

As the train wreck continued, Steve, who was hiding behind the janitor's closet, was suddenly startled by Bobbi's sudden presence. "So you decided to sign up for something?" He shoved the cart away, thankful it didn't run into anything, lest it reveal his presence.

"Uh...no," he stuttered. "You?"

"No," she answered more freely, taking a moment to address his hiding spot. "Um..why were you hiding behind a mop?" It suddenly dawned on her that maybe he didn't _want _to be found. "Your friends don't know you're here, do they?"

Steve sagged, defeated. "No." As they watched Ms. Fury dismiss yet another theater hopeful, he explained with a hand gesture, "As you can see, Ms. Fury is a little...harsh."

"The Spiders superstar is afraid?" Seeing an opening, Bobbi took it. "Of a tiny little teacher who's overobsessed with the theater?"

"I'm not afraid," Steve protested, scoffing. "I'm just..."

"Scared?" Bobbi exhaled. "Yeah. Me too. Usually." Steve was about to ask what she meant by that when Ms. Fury's voice rang out through the theater once more.

"And for the couples audition, we only have one couple signed up. Antonia and Clint, perhaps it might be useful for you to demonstrate why we have gathered here in this...hallowed hall." Antonia and Clint wasted no time, jumping up onto stage and disappearing behind the curtain.

Skye immediately followed them, timidly asking, "Um, what key?" Antonia simply waved her off, saying,

"Oh, we had our rehearsal pianist do an arrangement." Poor Skye was left to scuttle back to her piano, hiding behind its shadow as Antonia and Clint started up the number, beginning with only their snapping hands outside of the curtain.

_It's hard to believe that I couldn't see_

_You were always there beside me_

_Thought I was alone with no one to hold_

_But you were always right beside me_

_This feeling's like no other_

_I want you to know_

_I've never had someone that knows me like you do_

_The way you do_

_I've never had someone as good for me as you_

_No one like you_

_So lonely before I finally found_

_What I've been looking for_

A series of carefully choreographed moves was then carried out-obviously, Antonia and Clint had done a lot of work for this. As Clint executed his cartwheel, the inner gymnast in Bobbi couldn't help but scoff. His form was absolutely awful.

_So good to be seen, so good to be heard_

_Don't have to say a word_

_For so long I was lost, so good to be found_

_I'm lovin' having you around_

_This feeling's like no other_

_I want you to know_

_I've never had someone that knows me like you do_

_The way you do_

_I've never had someone as good for me as you_

_No one like you_

_So lonely before I finally found_

_What I've been looking for_

_Do-do-do_

_Do do-do-do do-do_

_Oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh_

_Do-do-do-do_

_Do do-do-do do-do_

_Oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh_

A series of poses, accompanied by flourishes, and their routine was complete. Skye was quick to clap, followed by Ms. Fury and the rest of the poor theater hands in the room. Bobbi and Steve just stood there in shock, both at the talent that they'd just seen and the apparent way the two Potts twins owned the room.

"I told you not to do the jazz squares," Antonia hissed to Clint while holding her pose.

"It's crowd favorite, everyone loves a good jazz square," he said back, while still holding a smile for the pretend audience. They broke their pose, Antonia turning around to direct various personnel.

"Actually," Skye scrambled up to Antonia, her sheet music clutched in her hand, "if you did the part with that particular song, I imagined it much slow-"

She was cut off by a very icy "_If _we get the part?" Antonia shook her head at the poor, naive composer. "Skye, my sawed-off Sondheim, I've been in 17 school productions. How many of you compositions have been selected?"

"This would be the first," Skye murmured.

"Which means..."

"I should give you more solos?" (In Skye's opinion, it really had been a viable answer.)

"No, it tells us that you do not give direction, suggestion or commentary," Antonia snapped back so fast that Skye's head almost spun. "And you should be thankful that Clint and I are here to life your music out of its obscurity. Are we clear?"

"Yes ma'am!" Skye stuttered. "I mean. Antonia."

"Nice talking to you."

"Any last minute sign ups?" Ms. Fury looked around the theater one more time. "No? Good. Done." She switched her light off.

Before Bobbi knew it, she was racing down the aisle towards the stage. "I'd like to audition, Ms. Fury."

"Timeliness means something in the world of theater, young lady," Ms. Fury lectured her. "The individual auditions are over and there are simply no other pairs."

"I'll sing with her."

The words were out of Troy's mouth before he could stop them, and he stepped out, his hand half raised. Both Ms Fury and Bobbi looked back towards him in surprise. Steve was actually slightly confused as to why he was even there himself.

"Steve Rogers." Ms. Fury broke the silence first. "Where is your...sports posse, or whatever it's called?" She had no doubt they were somewhere with their little game tools, like that one ball Barnes constantly carried around with him.

"It's a team, Ms. Fury," Steve answered. "I came alone." He corrected that sentence, remembering Bobbi. "Actually, I'm here to sing with her."

"Yes, well, we take these shows very seriously at SHIELD High," Ms. Fury said to the both of them, obviously believing they weren't serious about auditioning. "I called for the pairs audition, and you didn't respond. Free period is now over."

"She has an amazing voice," Steve called after the drama teacher as she began to depart. He knew how badly Bobbi wanted this audition, and he was determined to get it for her any way he could.

"Perhaps the _next _musicale."

Both of them slumped in defeat. Skye had been watching the whole thing-and had to admit _she _was kind of defeated, too. Her first debut, and it was going to be as bubble-gum pop as the _last _musicale had been. She was too caught up in her thoughts that she tripped over the leg of the piano chair, The sheet music went flying everywhere, and Bobbi and Steve hurried over to help the frazzled composer, picking up pieces of paper as they went.

"So, you're a composer?" Steve asked as he put together some blank sheets. "You wrote the song Antonia and Clint just sang?" He was impressed. He didn't think there was actually someone behind all of the weird lyrics and show tunes. He'd always thought they were just _there_. "And the entire show?" Skye nodded. "Well, that's pretty cool. I can't wait to hear the rest of it."

"Why are you so afraid of Antonia and Clint?" Bobbi asked, finding the pages to yet another composition and putting them together. "I mean, it _is _your show."

"It is?" Skye blurted out, still startled at the fact that Steve Rogers-Steve _Rogers, _of all people-was helping her out.

"Isn't the composer of a show kind of like the playmaker in football?" When both girls just looked at him in confusion, he hastened to explain. "You know. The playmaker. The one who makes everyone else look good. Without you, there is no show, Skye. You're the playmaker here, Skye."

Suddenly pushed by a fit of inspiration, Skye was back on her feet, clutching her most recent composition in her arms. "Do you guys wanna hear how the duet's really supposed to sound?" She didn't even give them a chance to answer before she was scrambling towards the piano. Steve and Bobbi followed, albeit cautiously.

_It's hard to believe_

_That I couldn't see_

_That you were always there beside me_

It was Steve who started off first, with the guidance of Skye, but soon, Bobbi quickly stepped forwards to sing the next part.  
_  
Thought I was alone_

_With no one to hold_

_But you were always there beside me_

The musical spirit that had taken over the both of them during New Year's Eve began to take over once again, their voices melding in a harmony.

_This feeling's like no other_

_I want you to know_

_That I've never had someone_

_That knows me like you do_

_The way you do_

_And I've never had someone_

_That's good for me as you_

_No one like you_

_So lonely before _

_I finally found_

_What I've been looking for_

Bobbi topped it off, floating above Skye's piano strains with a light harmonization, finishing off the song as she and Steve looked into each other eyes. Skye's wide-eyed surprise was nothing compared to Ms. Fury's, who surprised them all when she spoke.

"Rogers, Morse, you have a callback." This time, she turned to Skye. "Skye, give them the duet from the second act. Work on it with them."

Skye was immediately bustling around, digging for her copies of the composition. "If you guys wanna practice, I'm usually here during free period and after school, and sometimes even during biology class. You can come and rehearse anytime, or even to my house, I have a piano, we can rehearse there. Anytime works-before school, after school, after football..." She was so jazzed about the whole thing that she missed the look Steve and Bobbi gave each other.

_What had they gotten themselves into?_

* * *

"CALLBACK?"

What followed was surely the loudest and longest scream in SHIELD High history, as Antonia Potts opened her mouth and let out a shriek upon seeing the callback board. The both of them stood there, not believing their eyes. Just to make sure, Clint decided to read it out loud.

"Callback for roles Arnold and Minnie next Thursday, 3:30pm, Antonia and Clint Potts, Steve Rogers and Bobbi Morse."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Antonia fumed. "They didn't even audition!"

"Maybe we're being punked!" Clint said suddenly, causing Antonia to look at him weirdly. "Maybe we're being filmed right now!" He was growing more visibly excited by the minute. "Maybe we'll get to meet Kimye!"

"Oh, shut up, Clint!" Antonia huffed, stomping her foot. "Ugh! How dare she sign up! I already picked the colors to my dressing room!" By then, she had attracted a large crowd, which included the likes of Bucky and the rest of the football team.

"Geez, Antonia, calm down..._whoa_."

* * *

The stage seemed to be set for a showdown as Antonia paced the cafeteria's upper level, surveying the people below her. They chattered and gathered, the whole situation seeming like a normal day. However, trouble was brewing right below.

_You can bet there's nothing but net_

_When I am in a zone and on a roll_

_But I've got a confession, my own secret obsession_

_And it's makin' me lose control_

_Everybody gather round_

Pietro, who had been dying to make this confession since freshman year, finally said, "If Steve can tell his secret, then I can tell mine. I-I-I bake."

It was Bucky who replied first. _"What_?"

"I love to bake," Pietro said once more, his excitement growing. "Strudels, scones, even apple pandowdy. Someday, I hope to make the perfect creme brulee."

_No! No, no no_

_Stick to the stuff you know_

_If you wanna be cool, follow one simple rule_

_Don't mess with the flow no, no_

_Stick to the status quo!_

_Listen well, I'm ready to tell_

_About a need that I cannot deny_

_Dude, there's no explanation for this awesome sensation _

_But I'm ready to let it fly!_

"If Steve wants to be a singer, then I'm coming clean," a skateboarder named Fitz confessed. "I play the cello."

"_Awesome!" _one of the kids next to him exclaimed. "Wait. What is it?" As Fitz pantomimed playing the cello, he lit up again. "A saw!"

"No, dude, it's like a giant violin!" Fitz answered, smacking his forehead.

"Do you have to wear a costume?"

"Coat and tie."

_Oh no no no_

_No, no no_

_Stick to the stuff you know_

_It is better by far_

_To leave things as they_

_Don't mess with the flow, no no_

_Stick to the status quo_

"This is not what I want," Antonia muttered as she witnessed the revolution going on below. Skateboarders being muscians? Football players baking? _This was not happening! _"This is not what I planned!" And it didn't seem to be stopping! "I don't understand! Something is really-"

"Something's not right," Clint agreed between bites of his hamburger.

"Really, really wrong," Antonia agreed. "And I gotta get things back where they belong." She stalked downwards to the general crowd, where an upheaval was occurring. There was only one way to do it, she decided, and climbed up onto a table. "EVERYBODY QUIET!"

This silence happened to coincide with Jemma and Bobbi's entrances to the main cafe, everyone turning to stare at her. "Why is everybody staring at you?" Bobbi asked Jemma, wondering if this was a regular thing.

"It's not me. It's you," Jemma answered succinctly.

"Because of the callbacks?" Bobbi freaked. "I can't have people staring at me, I really can't."

_No, no no no_

_Stick to the stuff you know_

_If you wanna be cool_

_Follow one simple rule_

_Don't mess with the flow no no_

_Stick to the status quo_

_No no no_

_Stick to the stuff you know_

_It is better by far_

_To leave things as they are _

_Don't mess with the flow, no no_

_Stick to the status_

_Stick to the status_

_Stick to the status quo!_

She didn't know how it happened, but one moment, Bobbi was standing there, trying to edge through her way of people, and the next, she was flat on her back, her lunch having ended up on Antonia's bright pink blouse.

She only had a second to brace herself when Antonia let out her second loud scream of the day. "What is going on here?" Ms. Fury had quickly arrived upon hearing Antonia's screams, sighing when she found the remnants of American chop suey on Antonia' shirt.

"Look at this!" Antonia cried, gesturing to her shirt. "That Bobbi girl just dumped her lunch on me! It's all part of her plan to ruin the musical," she exclaimed, her chest heaving. "And Steve and his football drones are obviously behind it. Why do you think he auditioned?" She began to sniffle, an obviously theatrical ploy to everyone around her. "After all the hard work you've put into this show, it just doesn't seem right."

As the crowd began to disperse, Bucky sidled up to Steve. "You missed free-period workout to audition for a heinous musical. And suddenly, people are _confessing_." He gestured to Pietro, who was holding a pastry in his hand. "Pietro _bakes_."

"It's creme brulee," Pietro exclaimed excitedly, holding the round pastry out to Steve. "It's a creamy custard with a caramelized surface, and it's really satisfying and-"

"Shut _up_, Pietro!" Bucky exclaimed before turning back to Steve. "Look, do you see what's happening here, man? Our team is coming apart because of your singing thing. Even the drama geeks and brainiacs suddenly think they can..._talk _to us. Suddenly, people think that they can do things that they shouldn't. Other stuff, that's _not _their stuff." He jabbed a finger in Steve's chest. "You're thinking about show tunes when we've got a playoff game next week.

"Get it together."

* * *

"Is Antonia really, really mad at me?" Bobbi asked Jemma worriedly later. She was barely eating her lunch, she was so worried. Bobbi honestly did not do well with confrontation. She'd spent the last couple of years avoiding it, and it seemed that it'd all come back to get her in one big explosion. "I said I was sorry."

"Look, no one has beaten Antonia out for a musical since kindergarten," Jemma explained. "It's kind of a big deal."

"We weren't even auditioning," Bobbi sighed wistfully. "It just kind of...happened."

"You won't convince Antonia of that," Jemma snorted. "If that girl could play both Romeo and Juliet, her own brother would be aced out."

"I just told you, it happened," Bobbi told her. "I liked it, though...a lot." She straightened her resolve for a minute, asking, "Did you ever feel like there's this whole other person inside of you, trying to get out?"

Jemma stared at her for a minute before replying, a bit uncomfortably, "No."

* * *

The first thing that Bobbi saw when she climbed the steps to the roof was the multitude of flowers. There were _tons _of them, she realized. Way too many for one person to plant by themselves. "Wow! It's like a jungle up here!"

"Yeah, just like that cafeteria," Steve supplied weakly. He was seated on a wooden bench, eating a sandwich.

"Well, I just humiliated myself into the next century," Bobbi offered, taking a seat next to him. "So this is your private hideout?" She'd never imagined that someone like Steve Rogers would find comfort in something so delicate. It made her smile.

"Yeah," Steve answered happily, sounding more psyched than he had in a long time. "Thanks to the science club. Which means my friends don't even know it exists." Really, Steve loved his friends, but the insular mindset they held was just annoying sometimes.

"You pretty much have the school wired, don't you, Steve? It seems like everyone on campus wants to be your friend," It was true. Every corner Bobbi turned, there seemed to be at least one person who was talking about Steve.

"Unless we lose," Steve said glumly. Bobbi's heart went out to him.

"Well, I'm sure it's tricky being the coach's son," she offered. Surely there was someone who understood that.

"Makes me practice a little harder, I guess," he shrugged. "I don't know what he'll say about me singing, though." In his head, Steve knew exactly what Coulson would say: that he was a disappointment to the legacy he'd built. "My parent's friends are always saying, 'Your son's the basketball guy, you must be so proud'," he confessed to Bobbi. "Sometimes I don't wanna be the basketball guy. Sometimes I just wanna be...a guy, you know?"

"I saw the way you treated Skye at the audition yesterday," Bobbi offered, hesitant about placing a hand on his back. Would that seem too intimate? "Do your friends know _that _guy?" Because if they didn't, they were sorely missing out.

"To them, I'm just the playmaker dude."

"Then they don't know enough about you, Steve," she decided, going for the hand on his back. "At my other schools I was the freaky math girl. It's cool coming here and being...well, whoever I want to be, I guess. When I was singing with you, I felt like...a girl."

"You even look like one, too," Steve teased, causing her to laugh.

"Remember in kindergarten, how you'd meet a kid and know nothing about them, and then ten minutes later, you'd be best friends because you didn't have to be anyone but yourself?" she asked, wanting to establish a point of comparison. "Singing with you felt a little bit like that."

"Well, I never thought about singing, that's for sure," Steve admitted. "Until I met you." They sat in silence, until Bobbi spoke up.

"So you really want to do the callbacks?"

"Hey, just call me freaky callback boy." Bobbi laughed at that, staring out into the distance.

"You're a cool guy, Steve," she said finally. "But not for the reasons your friends think. And thanks for showing me your top-secret hiding place," she said. "It's like kindergarten."

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Steve and Bobbi were practicing with Skye every moment they had. Whether it was during a free period, after school, or even during the occasional biology class, they were found with Skye, either together or individually.

It all came to head one afternoon when Steve was nowhere to be seen during football practice. "Where's Steve?" Coulson asked Bucky. Steve's best friend only shrugged in response. With a sigh, he blew the whistle, ending practice. "Alright, guys, hit the showers."

Just then, Steve walked out sheepishly, dressed in uniform. "I think I'm gonna stay awhile," he said to Coulson. "You know, work on some long passes."

"Probably," his dad said coldly to him. "Since you missed practice, I think your team deserves a little effort from you today." Coulson turned away then, his clipboard in his hand. Steve just sighed, fishing a football from the cart and testing its air pressure.

"Wow, so this is your real stage," a feminine voice came from his right. Steve straightened up to find Bobbi, who'd wandered onto the field.

"Yeah." he laughed sarcastically. "Or you just call it an overglorified patch of grass." He threw the ball to her, surprised when she threw it back in a perfect spiral. "Whoa! Don't tell me you're good at football too!"

"It's just kinematics," she laughed. "Easy physics. Just so you know, I was the one that came up with the method to throw a perfect football." She made a muscle, pretending to throw a ball.

"Did you now?" Steve joked, throwing the ball back at her. "I'm only here because I missed practice. I've been rehearsing with Skye," he told her. "So if I get kicked off of the team, it's on your conscience."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who told you..." she began, looking slightly offended.

"Bobbi. Joking."

"Oh." In retaliation, she grabbed the football from him, taking off down the field.

"Bobbi, you're going in the wrong direction..no really, Bobbi...that's the...get back here!" He had to end up taking off after her, laughing all the way. It ended up with him picking her up in his arms, twirling her around.

It wasn't the greatest picture that Coulson found when he arrived on the scene. "Miss! This is a private practice!" Steve jumped, putting Bobbi down.

"Dad...practice is over," he told Coulson, slightly embarrassed.

"Not until the last player leaves," Coulson answered, and when Steve opened his mouth, he was shot down once more. "Team rule."

"I'm sorry, sir," Bobbi said at once, trying to fix her long blonde hair. "I'll get out of your way, I'll just be a minute."

"Dad, this is Bobbi Morse," Steve said, mentally communicating to his father to play nice.

Apparently he didn't get that call. "Ah. Your detention buddy." Bobbi looked visibly embarrassed at that, suddenly finding her feet extremely interesting.

"I'll see you later, Steve," she mumbled. In an attempt to make relations one last time, she tried, "It was nice meeting you, Coach Coulson,"

"You as well, Miss Morse," As Bobbi hurried away, he said to Steve, "You haven't missed practice once in three years. That girl shows up, and suddenly you're-"

"_That girl _is named Bobbi, and she's really very nice," Steve argued.

"Helping you miss practice isn't very nice," Coulson hissed. "Not in my book. Or your team's." He sighed. "She's just a girl, Steve. You're not 'just the guy' she needs. You're the team leader. What you do not only affects this team, but the entire school. And without you completely focused, we're not going to win next week. The championship games-they're something special. They don't come around all the time. You're a playmaker, not a singer, Steve."

"Did you ever think I could be both?"

* * *

"What spell has this elevated-IQ temptress cast that has made you suddenly want to be part of the school musical?" Bucky demanded of Steve the next day as they headed down the hall to their first class.

"Look, I just did it," Steve sighed, already frustrated. "Who cares?"

"Who cares?" Bucky echoed, as if he couldn't believe what his best friend was saying. "How about your best friend in the entire world? Look, you're a hoops dude, not a musical singer person. Have you seen Michael Crawford on a cereal box?"

"Who's Michael Crawford?" Steve asked, not liking where this was going.

"He was the Phantom of the Opera. Now, my mom, she's seen that musical 27 times. She has of Michael Crawford in our refrigerator. Not on it, _in _it. Don't ask me why. I won't attempt to understand the female mind. So my point is, if you play football, you're going to end up on the cereal box. If you get into musicals, you're going to end up in my mom's refrigerator."

"What's your point, Buck?" He was really getting tired of this conversation.

"We need you, Cap," Bucky finished with a flourish. "Big time." Steve just sighed and headed into class. Bucky took a moment to make sure he wasn't being watched, then hurried over to Jemma Simmons, who looked just as wary.

"We need to talk."

* * *

"Look at them," Antonia scoffed through her binoculars. "They must be trying to figure out a way to make sure Bobbi and Steve beat us out. I look at it this way: the jocks rule most of the school, but if they get Steve into the musical, then they've conquered the entire student body. And if those science girls get Bobbi hooked up with Steve Rogers, then the scholastic club goes from drool to cool." She lowered her binoculars, looking at her brother. "Clint, we need to save our show from people who don't know the difference between a Tony Award and Tony Hawk."

Students streamed all around SHIELD High early that morning, unaware that a day of showdowns was about to occur. If they went right, then the social balance would be rightfully restored. If not...well, no one wanted to think about what would happen if they went wrong.

Deep in the recesses of the courtyard, Bucky met Jemma, who was wearing worriedly clutching her bag and looking over her shoulder. Neither of them wanted to think about what would happen if they were caught together. "So my watch is set for 7:45 Central Mountain Time," Bucky said to her. "Then we're a good for lunchtime, 12:05. We synced?"

"Yes, Bucky, we're a go," Jemma said exasperatedly, but with a slight smile on her face. She would never admit it, but she was slightly fond of the five watches he was wearing. Not to mention that hair...it really was a nice shade of brown. "And Bucky, we're not Charlie's Angels, okay?"

Bucky smirked, making Jemma's stomach flop unexplainably. "I can dream, can't I?"

* * *

"'Wildcat' Brock Rumlow," Bucky said at once when Steve walked into the locker room, having been called there under a pretense of a team meeting. "Class of '72. He was the MVP of the championship game."

"James Rhodes, class of '02. Also known as 'War Machine'." Pietro added, trying to look more intimidating. He failed. "Captain. MVP of the league championship team."

"The 'Falcon', Sam Wilson, '95," added Grant Ward, their star runningback. "Led the Spiders to back-to-back city championships. A legend."

"Yes. Legends, one and all," Bucky finished, stalking towards Steve. "But do you think any of these legends became legends by getting involved in their school musicals days before their league championships?"

"_Getcha head in the game!" _the team shouted.

"No, these Spiders became legends because they never took their eyes off the prize!" Bucky exclaimed. He turned to the rest of the team, asking, "Who was the first sophomore ever to make starting varsity?"

"_Steve!" _they chorused.

"Who voted him team captain this year?"

"_Us_!"

"Who's gonna get their butts kicked in Friday's championship game if Steve's worried about his audition?"

There was a slight groan of _"We are." _

"Guys, come on," Steve defended. "There's twenty-seven people on this team. It's not just me."

"Just twenty-seven?" Bucky challenged, grabbing something from the table. "Oh, no, Rogers, you're forgetting about one _very _important member of this team." He held a frame out to Steve, the picture showcasing a very important figure.

"My dad," Steve said, dumbstruck. Coulson had told him the story so many times Steve had forgotten his father's achievement had been one for the ages.

"That's right. Spiders football championship, class of '81. Champion, father, and now coach. It's a winning tradition like no other." Bucky finished, confident he'd gotten his point across. "Are you willing to bring it on?"

* * *

"From lowly Neanderthal to Cro-Magnon, to early warriors and medieval knights, all of our years of history have come to...this," Jemma began with a flourish, unrolling a full-color poster of Steve in all of his football glory, kicking the ball into the end zone. "Lunkhead football boy."

Bobbi looked slightly startled at all of the decathlon team gathered in the lab-Jemma had simply told her that she was needed, urgently. She hadn't expected _this. _

"Yes, our culture worshipped the and we end up with spoiled, overpaid bonehead athletes, who contribute little to civilization other than slam dunks and touchdowns," Jemma finished, a little nastily. "That is the inevitable world of Troy Bolton."

"But the path of the mind, the path we're on, ours is the path that has brought us these people." Suddenly, the room went dark, one of the members having supposedly set up a slideshow ahead of time. "Eleanor Roosevelt, Frida Kahlo, Sandra Day O'Connor, Madame Curie, Jane Goodall...Oprah Winfrey, and so many others who the world reveres-"

Now Bobbi was even _more _confused. "What's this got to do with-" She shook her head. "Look, I've got Skye waiting for me to rehearse, and I've really-"

"Bobbi!" Jemma hated that her voice sounded so sharp, but she really needed to keep her best friend in the room long enough that Bucky could get Steve riled up and they could transmit his outburst to Bobbi. "Steve Rogers represents one side of evolution. And our side, the side of education and accomplishment, is the future of civilization!"

* * *

"Guys, if you don't know that I'll put 110% of my guts into that game, then you don't know me," Steve told his team, thoroughly annoyed with every single one of them. Bucky looked shocked for the first time since the meeting had begun.

"But we just thought..."

"I'll tell you what I thought," he fumed, his anger beginning to rise. He'd done so much for the team, and for all of it to come to this? He wouldn't stand for it. "I thought that you were my friends. Win together, lose together, teammates!"

"But the girl-" Bucky began. Steve was so angry he didn't notice Pietro opening up the cover of a laptop, Ward handing him a video camera to perch on top of it.

"Man, I'm for the team!" Steve yelled at Bucky, hurt that his best friend would even think otherwise. "I've always been for the team! She's just someone I met. The singing thing is nothing. A way to keep my nerves down. It means nothing to me. You're my guys, and this is our team. Gabriella is not important. I'll forget about her, forget the audition, and we'll get that championship. Everyone happy now?" With that, he stormed out of the room, the rest of the team exchanging excited looks. Finally, they would have their leader back.

* * *

Across the school, in the lab, Jemma looked at Bobbi sadly, the entire team having just witnessed Steve's meltdown via webcam. "Behold lunkhead basketball man." Bobbi said nothing, her brown eyes nearly brimming over with tears. "So, Bobbi, we'd love to have you for the scholastic decathlon team!" Jemma began brightly, hoping to lighten the mood. "We were just going to go grab some lunch...if you wanted to come," Bobbi simply went over to the board, picking up a piece of chalk and beginning to sketch out some organic diagrams. Jemma motioned for the rest of team to go, and they slowly filed out of the room.

She looked wistfully out the window, wondering how she could've been so stupid as to believe Steve had _actually _wanted to sing with her. _They're all the same, Bobbi, _a voice in her head echoed. _What made you think that this school was going to be any different from the rest? You should've known when Antonia first spoke to you that you had a place. Biochemistry. The science lab. Not the stage. _Slowly and quietly, without even noticing, she began to sing quietly to herself.

_It's funny how you find yourself_

_Looking from the outside_

_I'm standing here, but all I want_

_Is to be over there_

She exited the classroom, wandering the empty hallways. Everyone had filed outside for the football team's pep rally, leaving her to be the only one in the school.

_Why did I let myself believe_

_Miracles could happen_

'_Cause now I have to pretend_

_That I don't really care_

That would be the worst part, Bobbi decided. She'd opened her heart up to so much, believing that it would be reciprocated in return. Instead, she'd gotten nothing but empty promises and heartache.

_I thought you were my fairy tale_

_My dream when I'm not sleeping_

_A wish upon a star that's coming true_

_But everybody else could tell_

_That I confused my feelings with the truth_

_Because I liked the view_

_When there was me and you_

She descended the stairs sadly, one hand on the banister as if she was afraid that if she let go, she'd fall into nothingness.

_I swore I knew the melody_

_That I heard you singing_

_And when you smiled, you made me feel_

_Like I could sing along_

She had. Bobbi really had. Steve had made something bubble up inside of her that she'd never felt before, and now that she knew he didn't really care...that feeling turned sour, twisting in her stomach and threatening to make her hurl.

_But then you went and changed the words_

_Now my heart is empty_

_I'm only left with used-to-bes_

_And once upon a song_

_I thought you were my fairy tale_

_My dream when I'm not sleeping_

_A wish upon a star_

_That's coming true_

_But everybody else could tell _

_That I confused my feelings _

_With the truth_

_When there was me and you_

_I can't believe that I could've been so blind_

_It's like you were floating_

_While I was falling_

_And I didn't mind_

Bobbi swore to herself at that moment that she would never open her heart again. She wouldn't take any more chances with anyone, no matter how sincere they seemed to be

_Because I liked the view_

_I thought you felt it too_

_When there was me and you_

Chatter gradually refilled the hallways as Bobbi stopped at her locker, fully intent on opening it and discarding of the sheet music. It's not like she'd be able to find anyone to sing with her this late in the game, anyways. Picking up the sheet music from the top shelf, she looked at it for a long time before stooping down to pick up her chemisry book as well-after all, it was where she _really _belonged.

"Hey!" Steve came up to her, still extremely excited about the spirit the pep rally had raised. "I wanna talk to you about something." He'd been thinking about it during the entire pep rally, and wanted to bring up the idea of having a breakfast rehearsal party with Skye. She'd done so much for the two of them-it was only right they treat her to something.

"And here it is: I know what it's like to carry a load with your friends," Bobbi began. She found that once she began, it was ridiculously hard to stop. But she had to keep going. If only for the sake of her own pride and comfort. "I get it, You've got your boys, Steve. It's OK. So we're good,"

"Good about what?" Steve wrinkled his nose in confusion, and it took all she had not to fixate on the adorable way he did it. "I wanted to talk to you about Skye and the callbacks."

"I don't wanna do the callbacks either," she said, handing him the sheet music she'd kept on top of her chemistry book. "Who are we trying to kid? You've got your team and I've got mine. I'll do the scholastic decathlon and you'll win the championships. It's where we belong." With one last sad smile, she began to move around him. "Go, Spiders."

"But I..." There was so much he wanted to say. Or ask. Just what the heck had gotten into her? Had he said something? Done something? Steve opened his mouth, but lost his chance as Bobbi disappeared into the crowd, taking a piece of him with her.

* * *

"Steve! Hey, Steve!" The football player mentioned sighed as he heard the voices of his teammates echoing up the stairwell to his rooftop garden. Hadn't they bothered him enough already about the championship game? First Bobbi wasn't talking to him, and now this... Bucky skidded to the top of the garden, stopping at the sight of Steve on the bench. "So, um, we just had another team meeting."

"Wonderful." It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice, especially when he knew that after the _last _team meeting, Bobbi had magically stopped speaking to him.

"We had a team meeting about how..." Bucky fidgeted. ",,,we haven't been acting like a team. I mean us, not you," he corrected quickly, because in what world would Steve Rogers _not _have been part of the team? "About the singing thing..."

"I don't wanna talk about it," Steve answered harshly. It only led him to memories with Bobbi, which he'd _really _not talk about at the moment.

"We just want you to know that we're gonna be there cheering for you," Ward said, speaking for the first time. "If singing is what you wanna do, we should boost you up, not tear you down," The entire team nodded their assent, feeling truly guilty about what they'd done.

"Yeah. Win or lose, we're teammates," Bucky said to him, sounding like the best friend Steve had met all those years ago in kindergarten. "That's what we're about. Even if you turn out to be the worst singer in the world-which we don't know, because we haven't heard you sing-"

"And you're not gonna hear me sing," Steve answered, sighing once more. "Because Bobbi won't even talk to me. And I have no idea why." The team exchanged glances with each other, Pietro stepping forwards with a plastic bag.

"We do," he began nervously. "I baked these fresh today. You'll probably want to try one before we tell you the rest,"

* * *

"Bobbi, we were jerks," Jemma burst out as Bobbi entered the science lab, heading straight for the chalkboard. "No, we were worse than jerks because we were mean jerks. We thought Steve and the whole singing thing was killing our chances of having you on our decathlon team," she explained as Bobbi shrugged on a lab coat, beginning to sketch more diagrams on the board.

"I heard what he had to say, I'm on your team now. Done," Bobbi gave them nothing but her short replies, using the board as an excuse to not show the tears nearly running down her face. She _hated _talking about Steve. Even thinking about him was enough to make her cry.

"No, not done," Jemma let out an exasperated sound before adding, "We knew that Bucky could get Steve to say things that would get him riled up. We planned the whole thing, and we're embarrassed and sorry."

"No one forced Troy to say anything," Bobbi answered, still sketching, even though her brain was alight at this revelation. "And you know what? It's OK. We should prepare for the decathlon. It's time to move on."

"No, it's _not _OK," Jemma protested. How could she have so easily swayed her friend before and now had such a hard time swaying her back? "The decathlon is whatever, but how you feel about feel about us, and even more, Steve-that's what really matters," When Bobbi gave no inclination of answering, Jemma sighed. "We tried," she said to the team, and silently left the room.

* * *

It was well into the night when Steve rang Bobbi's doorbell, having done some excessive pleading with Jemma to find out where she lived. Melinda answered the door, a frown creasing her face when she saw that it was a boy. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, Ms. Morse, I'm Steve Rogers." Melinda cast a worried look at the stairs, where Bobbi was mouthing 'No!' with a cutthroat sign. She frowned. She was most definitely going to need to have a talk with her daughter later.

"Ah, Steve!" she exclaimed. "Bobbi's told me so much about you." She lowered her voice. "Um...Bobbi's kind of busy with homework right now, so now's not a good time,"

"I made a mistake, Ms. Morse, and I'd like Bobbi to know that," Steve declared, hoping that Bobbi would hear it and forgive him. "Could you tell her I came by to see her?"

"I will...Steve," As she shut the door, Melinda wondered just what exactly the boy had done to make him come groveling back like that. Hm. Hopefully her daughter kept him. One just didn't see men like that all too much nowadays.

Meanwhile, Steve crept into Bobbi's backyard, climbing a tree swiftly and silently to her patio. Once landing, he pulled out his cell phone, putting it to his ear. Inside, he could hear the strains of 'Start of Something New' start up once again, Bobbi hesitating before picking it up. "Hello?"

"What you heard, none of that is true," Steve was off before she could figure out it was him and hang up. "I was sick of my friends riding me, so I said things to shut them up. I didn't mean any of it,"

"You sounded pretty convincing to me." Bobbi answered glumly, and it broke Steve's heart just to hear her voice sound like that.

"The guy you met on vacation is more me than the guy who said those stupid things," He _had _to prove her wrong. He absolutely _had _to.

"The whole singing thing is making the school whack. You said so yourself, Everyone's treating you differently because of it," And who was she to interfere with what was obviously going to be history in the making? No one would _ever _forgive her if she was the one to make Steve Rogers lose the football championships.

"Maybe because I don't wanna only be the basketball guy," Steve said, panicked about getting his point across now. "They can't handle it. That's not my problem, it's theirs."

"What about your dad?" Bobbi asked. She knew his opinion meant a lot to Steve, and she didn't want to mess with that either, especially given how their last meeting had gone.

"It's not about my dad," Steve argued, still desperate to prove his point. "This is about how I feel, and I'm not letting the team down. They let me down. So I'm gonna sing. What about you?"

"I don't know," Bobbi said, clearly hesitant. She'd meant it when she'd sworn never to put down her walls again,. And yet, here she was, not even a week later, considering opening her heart up once more to the same person who'd broken it in the first place.

"Well, you need to say yes," Steve answered, taking out his sheet music and preparing. "Because I brought you something."

"What do you mean?"

"Turn around."

As soon as Bobbi turned around, the shock on her face not even fading, Steve began to sing.

_It's the start of something new_

_It feels so right_

_To be here with you_

_And now, looking in your eyes_

_I feel in my heart_

_The start of something...new_

Entranced, Bobbi slowly walked out to him, taking the sheet music from his hand. She joined him at the balcony. "It's a duet, you know..." Steve said.

She just took the music back and smiled.

* * *

The next couple of days passed by in a blur so fast neither of them were even sure what was happening. Between decathlon meets, practices and rehearsals, Bobbi and Steve didn't have time to breathe, let alone stop and think about what was going on.

Steve would lead a practice with all of his ferocity, throwing the ball with everything he had every time, then turn right around and belt it all out in rehearsal, much to the delight of Skye. Bobbi was the same way. Equations would appear with lightning speed on the board as the team scrambled to copy it all down, and she would then shed her lab coat, dashing to rehearsal.

One miraculous day when they'd managed to find rehearsal time together, Antonia and Clint stopped by their room, heads cocked. They were silently stunned at what they found-Steve and Bobbi sounded _good_. Antonia let out a small scream before stalking away, Clint following like an obedient lapdog.

"OK, our callback's on Thursday and the basketball game and scholastic decathlon are on Friday. What are we going to _do_?" A devilish smile crossed her face as the beginning of a plan began to form. "Too bad all these events weren't happening on the same day...or even better, at the same time..."

"That wouldn't work out because then Steve and Bobbi wouldn't be able to make..." Clint stopped as he finally grasped the plan. "I'm proud to call you my sister,"

"I know!" she chirped, and was instantly off to find Ms. Fury.

"I don't want to hear any more about Steve and that Morse girl," Ms. Fury sniffed as Antonia and Clint followed her into the theater. "So, if you're telling me as co-presidents of the drama club that changing the callbacks would be what's best for our theater program, I might actually agree with you," She'd had enough of Coulson trying to sabotage her program. He'd just have to wait until next year, when she sent in excellent actors to pose as hopeful freshmen.

"YES!" Antonia exclaimed. Finally, things were starting to look up for her...

* * *

"Callbacks the same time as the game?" Steve asked, horrified. He, Bobbi, and their respective teams were staring in disbelief at the bulletin board, with Skye right below them. After hearing about how much the composer meant to both Steve and Bobbi, both teams had quickly adopted her in a sort of way, bringing her tea, breakfast, and covering for her during biology class.

"And the scholastic decathlon, too," Jemma echoed, just as shocked. "Why would they do that?"

"I smell a rat named Fury," Bucky growled. He'd always known his homeroom teacher had shown blatant disdain towards sports, and now, he had actual evidence.

"I smell two rats, neither of them named Fury," Quite possibly the only person more angry than Bucky was Skye. After all of the work she'd put into working with Steve and Bobbi, to have her one true chance dashed to bits-it was enough to make any pianist tear their sheet music.

"You know something about this, small person?" Bucky asked as Skye shot an eyebrow at him. He'd called her that initially upon meeting her, and somehow the name had stuck. Skye sighed, ripping down the audition sheet.

"Ms. Fury thinks she's protecting the show," she explained. "But Antonia and Clint are only concerned about protecting themselves."

"Do you know what I'll do to those two show dogs?" Bucky demanded, punching his fists together. Behind him, some of the football team murmured their assent, discussing payback on the two drama nerds.

"Nothing, We're not gonna do anything to them," Steve answered. Everyone looked at him in shock. "Except sing. Maybe. Now," he said, as everyone leaned in. "this is only going to happen if we all stick together..."

* * *

For the third time in a week, SHIELD High was abuzz with activity. For the sports fans, it was the possibility of a championship. For the academics, their reputation as a decathlon team was on the line. And for everyone else...there was the final callbacks.

The football team started the morning off with a bang by ambushing Bobbi in homeroom, Pietro presenting her with a cake he'd made. "It's a pi pie," he explained to good-natured laughs.

"Oh, we have something for you too!" Bobbi exclaimed, as she and Jemma hurried over to a large blackboard, flipping it over. "Ta-da! It's an equation!" This was met with more groans, Bucky theatrically covering his eyes at the sight of math.

Finally, the football team gathered Clint and Antonia, claiming that they had a present for them two. Assembled, their shirts spelled "G-O D-R-A-M-A C-L-U-B" and Steve finished it off with "Exclamation point!"

"Well, it looks like we Spiders are in for an interesting afternoon," Ms. Fury remarked from the doorway, as Clint was left trying to read the shirts.

"G-go dra-, drame-..dramea..?"

* * *

"Nervous?" Coulson asked his son right before the opening whistle. The two of them were alone in the locker room, having dismissed the team beforehand. "Wish I could suit up and play with you,"

"Hey, you had your turn," Steve teased. He was nervous about everything-the championship, the callback, whether Jemma's schematics would work (he'd been assured numerous times by the irate scientist that _yes_, they did work), and most of all, singing with Bobbi again. He felt like they were on the precipice of something new, and this callback might as well send it all into motion.

"You know what I want from you today?" Coulson asked suddenly, going into 'serious parent' mode.

"The championship," Steve answered tiredly. He'd lost count of how many times he'd needed to answer that.

"Well, that'll come or it won't," Coulson answered easily, placing a hand on his son's shoulder pad. "What I want is for you to have fun. I know all about the pressure," He laughed a bit. "Probably too much of it has come from me. What I really want is to see my son having the time of his life playing the game we both love. You give me that, and I will sleep with a smile on my face no matter what the score,"

Steve was floored. "Uh...thanks, Coach...I mean, Dad."

* * *

"_Welcome to the tenth annual Scholastic Decathlon..."_

"_...for this championship game between SHIELD High and HYDRA High!"_

"Casting the leads of a show is both a challenge and a responsibility, a joy and a burden," Ms. Fury declared as she stepped into the theater once again, flanked by loyal members. "I commend you and all other young artists to hold out for the moon, the sun and the stars," She spread her arms out. "Shall we soar together?" She clapped once, sharply. "Antonia and Clint!"

There was silence. Ms. Fury clapped once more. "Antonia and Clint!"

Still no one appeared.

"All right, where's motherfucking Stark and Barton?" Fury demanded, abandoning all pretense of his role. "Those motherfuckers better get here onstage before I hunt them down!"

"I'll find them," Hill sighed, getting up from where she sat on the couch. She headed over to the elevator, and not ten seconds, later, the sounds of a scuffle could be heard. Clint was then noisily dropped from a vent rubbing his behind.

"You couldn't have thought of a better way to find me?" he asked. "She smacked me in the ass!"

"You're up, you idiot!" Natasha hissed from the director's chair. "Where the hell is your costume?" The megaphone in her hand was held threateningly, and everyone in the room knew she wouldn't hesitate to use it as a weapon. "Better yet, where the hell is Stark?"

"I think he's in the corner getting drunk," Steve pointed out, shifting uncomfortably in his uniform. "Natasha, can I get out of this thing yet?" It was really uncomfortable-he understood why football players got paid big money for these things.

"Hell, no," she snapped, instantly making Steve recoil and hide behind Bobbi. She rolled her eyes and patted him on the shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Natasha. "We've still got like, five scenes to go. Even though we've got no Sharpay..." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't like it, but we're going to have to do it." She turned to Thor. "I need Loki."

* * *

"You required my assistance?" Loki asked in an oily voice, as he was dragged up by Thor, who was holding him at arm's length. Coulson immediately backed away from him, looking disgusted.

"I need you to play Stark's part." Apparently, Loki had been watching the entire production from his cell, so he paled at Natasha's command. "Stark's in the corner drunk as all get-out."

"Me? No, you've got to be mistaken, there's no way I'm going to-" He was cut off by Natasha waving the megaphone threateningly, her green eyes flashing dangerously. "Fine, Romanoff. I'll do it."

She beamed. "Excellent. _Places, _everybody!"

* * *

"_Antonia and Clint!"_

This time, Antonia and Clint appeared on stage, one looking a lot less cheerful than the other. One warning look from Clint, however, and Antonia was smiling like an angel.

_Ay, que fabulosa!_

_Ay! Ay! Ay! Arriba!_

_Quien es bailar?_

_Me la me_

_I believe in dreaming_

_Shooting for the stars_

_Baby to be number one_

_You've got to raise the bar_

_Kicking and scratching_

_Grinding out my best_

_Anything it takes to climb the ladder of success_

_Work our tailes off every day_

_Gotta bump the competition_

_Blow them all away_

_Caliente!_

_Suave!_

_Yeah we're gonna_

_Bop bop bop_

_Bop to the top_

_Slip and slide and ride that rhythm_

_Jump and hop, hop till we drop_

_And start again_

_Zip zap zop_

_Pop like a mop_

_Scoot around the corner_

_Move it to the groove till the music stops_

_Do the bop bop bop _

_To the top_

_Don't ever stop_

_Bop to the top_

_Gimme gimme, shimmy shimmy_

* * *

"_SHIELD High wins the opening kick, pushing the ball up the field..."_

"_SHIELD High for the point!"_

* * *

_Shake some booty and turn around_

_Flash a smile in their direction_

_Show some muscle_

_Do the hustle!_

* * *

"Alright, Spiders, time for an orderly exit from the field," Jemma answered, putting her plan into motion. She opened her laptop, Bobbi looking anxiously over her shoulder as she began to type in long strings of code.

* * *

"_And HYDRA High kicks the ball around the perimeter on the offensive end. Nice ball movement by West High. Driving the lane...kick is up, and..."_

All of a sudden, the scoreboard began to flash and flicker, the sound system playing out various sounds. Some remained perfectly innocent, like the explosion of a volcano, and others were not so great. Steve had the impression that there was a sailor swearing somewhere.

"_We seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties. We've got a timeout on the field here."_

"We have a problem. Stop the game, stop the game!" Coulson was gesturing from the sidelines.

"_Coach has signaled time-out. Everyone, please remain calm."_

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Bucky asked, turning to Steve.

"Oh yeah," Steve took off in a dead sprint. No way he was going to miss that callback.

* * *

_Yeah we're gonna bop bop bop,_

_Bop to the top_

_Wipe away your inhibitions_

_Stomp stomp stomp, do the romp _

_And strut your stuff_

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the chemistry lab, Jemma hit another key, this time connecting to the hot plate that was situated not ten feet from them. With an inaudible _click, _the hot plate turned on, the filled beaker beginning to bubble. Soon, an awful stench filled the room, causing everyone to hold their noses in disgust. Everyone filed out of the room-except for Bobbi, who took off running towards the theater.

* * *

_Bop bop bop, straight to the top_

_Goin' for the glory_

_We'll keep steppin' up and we just won't stop (stop)_

'_Till we reach the top_

_Bop to the top!_

* * *

Antonia and Clint finished with a flourish and applause by none other than the theater crew. "Do you see why we love the theater, people?" Ms. Fury asked among the applause. "Now. Steve Rogers, Bobbi Morse." She paused. "Steve? Bobbi?"

Inside, Antonia was shaking with glee.

Skye watched from her perch at the piano, hoping they would show up in time. "They'll be here," she called out weakly, but to no avail.

"Alas, the theater, as I have often pointed out, waits for no one, I'm sorry," Ms. Fury told her, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Well, we are done here, congratulations to all, the cast list will be posted..."

"Wait! Wait! Ms. Fury, we can sing!" Both Steve and Bobbi came dashing through opposite directions of the theater, heading towards the stage. "We can sing!"

"I called your names, twice," Ms. Fury told them sternly. "Rules are rules." Her eyes widened as a large flow of students began to flood the theater. "Just what in the name of Shakespeare is going on here?"

"We'll be happy to do it again for our fellow students, Ms. Fury," Antonia said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at the drama teacher.

"I don't know what's going on here," Ms. Fury sputtered at last, finally regaining her voice, "but in any event, it's far too late and we have not got a pianist,"

Antonia, sensing she'd finally won, smirked at the deflated Steve and Bobbi. "That's show biz." It'd been almost too easy how she'd won, Antonia mused. People really needed to make things easier for her.

"We'll sing without a piano!" Steve called desperately. He'd sacrificed far too much for this to happen now. If he quit now, he'd be seen as worse than a loser. He'd be seen as the loser who sacrificed a winning championship for a failed audition.

"Oh no you won't," Skye muttered determinedly, marching up to the group and offering her best musician's salute. "Pianist here, Ms. Fury."

"You _really _don't wanna do that," Antonia said, narrowing her eyes at Skye. The normally meek pianist stepped right up and looked her in the eye.

"Oh, yes, I really do." She scurried away, yelling, "Ready on stage!" Steve gently took Bobbi's hand and led her to the stage, Skye already beginning to play the intro.

"I can't do it, Steve," she whimpered. "Not with all of these people staring at me." It'd be just like church all over again, and Bobbi had the feeling the surface of the stage was very unforgiving.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Steve said, taking her chin in his hand. "Like the first time we sang together. Remember? Like kindergarten,"

Skye began to play the intro once more, and Steve took a deep breath as he began.

_We're soaring_

_Flying_

_There's not a star in heaven that we can't reach_

_If we're trying_

_Yeah we're breaking free_

Cheered by Bobbi's hesitant entrance, Steve didn't hesitate to keep singing, pretending he was singing to her and her alone. Slowly, the same light he'd seen on New Year's Eve began to shine once more in Bobbi's eyes.

_You know the world can see us_

_In a way that's different than who we are_

_Creating space between us_

'_Till we're separate hearts_

_But your faith it gives me strength_

_Strength to believe_

_We're soarin', flyin'_

_There's not a star in heaven we can't reach_

_If we're trying_

_Yeah we're breaking free_

_We're breaking free_

The both of them were suddenly very much alive, the joy and excitement clearly in both of their voices. It was clear to everyone in the audience where the chemistry lay, and it most definitely was not in the mess of a chemistry lab.

_Can you feel it building_

_Like a wave the ocean just can't control_

_Connected by a feeling_

_Ooh, in our very soul_

_Our very soul_

_Rising till it lifts us up_

_So everyone can see_

_We're soaring, flying_

_There's not a star in heaven that we can't reach_

_If we're trying_

_Oh, we're breaking free_

_Running, climbing_

_To get to the place to be all that we can be_

_If we're trying_

_Yeah, we're breaking free_

The audience was actively dancing now, most of them on their feet and clapping along with the song. It seemed that Bobbi and Steve's energy was contagious, spreading to every corner of the theater. Of everyone, however, no one was more excited than Jemma and Bucky...and it might've been that they shared that excitement with one another...

_More than hope_

_More than faith_

_This is truth, this is fate_

_And together we see it coming_

_More than you _

_More than me_

_Not a want_

_But a need_

_Both of us breaking free_

_Soaring_

_Flying_

_There's not a star in heaven that we can't reach_

_If we're trying _

_Yeah we're breaking free_

_We're breaking free_

_You know the world can see us_

_In a way that's different from who we are_

The song ended softly, Skye finishing it off with an arpeggio that had the entire audience sitting in silence. Bobbi and Steve were breathless, grinning at each other at the fact that they'd just pulled off the performance in front of pretty much the entire school. Then, the audience burst into applause, cheering and stomping their feet.

With a grin, Steve took off, sprinting up the aisle with Bucky, Pietro and Ward following him. Jemma and the rest of the decathlon team followed not soon after-they had a competition to win.

* * *

"_And HYDRA High running the ball," _the announcer began, as Steve ran back onto the field. He, Pietro and Ward automatically took up position behind him, stances hunched and ready to win. The play was called, all of them tackling another player in order to prevent their enemy linebacker from scoring.

In the midst of it all, Bucky made it to HYDRA High's midfielder, leaping into the air to catch the ball in what was a perfect interception. He began sprinting the other way, dodging his opponents left and right.

"_Oh, but it's stolen by number 16 heading back the other way! Time is running down on the clock! Looks for a man on the inside." _Bucky looked frantically around for an open man, knowing that the defense was going to come for him soon if he didn't get the ball out of his hands. Finally, he saw that Steve had escaped from the clutches of his opponent, and was waving his arms like no tomorrow. Closing his eyes, he heaved the ball to his best friend, hoping for the best.

"_A 50-foot throw as time expires for the victory! SHIELD High has won the championship! Your SHIELD High Spiders are the new champions!"_ Roaring loudly, the crowd spilled onto the field, everyone hugging one another.

"WHAT TEAM?" Bucky hollered into the air.

"_SPIDERS!" _the team hollered back.

"WHAT TEAM?"

"_SPIDERS!"_

"WHAT TEAM?!"

"_SPIDERS!"_

"SPIDERS!"

"_GETCHA HEAD IN THE GAME!" _

In the midst of all of the celebration, Bobbi was swept into Steve's arms. "Congratulations, Spider!"

"What about you?" he asked.

"We won, too!" They hugged happily, Bobbi giving a thumbs up to Jemma, who had just seen the same move from Bucky.

"I just need to do one thing," Steve said, accepting the game ball from Bucky, who ecstatically handed it to him. He parted the crowd until he found Skye, who was nervously hiding in a corner. "Hey, composer, here's your game ball," he said to her, holding it out. Skye took it nervously, not sure what to do with it. "You deserve it-playmaker."

As Skye threw it in a perfect spiral, the pep band started up one last song.

_Together, together, together everyone_

_Together, together, come on let's have some fun_

_Together, were there for each other every time_

_Together, together come on let's do this right_

_Here and now it's time for celebration_

_To finally figure it out_

_That all our dreams have no limitations_

_That's what it's all about_

_Everyone is special in their own way_

_We make each other strong_

_Were not the same_

_We're different in a good way_

_Together's where we belong_

_We're all in this together_

_Once we know_

_That we are_

_We're all stars_

_And we see that_

_We're all in this together_

_And it shows_

_When we stand_

_Hand in hand_

_Make our dreams come true_

_Together, together, together everyone_

_Together, together, come on let's have some fun_

_Together, were there for each other every time_

_Together together come on lets do this right_

_We're all here_

_And speaking out in one voice_

_We're going to rock the house_

_The party's on now everybody make some noise_

_Come on scream and shout_

_We've arrived because we stuck together_

_Champions one and all_

_We're all in this together_

_Once we know_

_That we are_

_We're all stars_

_And we see that_

_We're all in this together_

_And it shows_

_When we stand_

_Hand in hand_

_Make our dreams come true_

_We're all in this together_

_When we reach_

_We can fly_

_Know inside_

_We can make it_

_We're all in this together_

_Once we see_

_There's a chance_

_That we have_

_And we take it_

_Spiders sing along_

_They really got it going on_

_Spiders in the house_

_Everybody say it now_

_Spiders everywhere_

_Wave your hands up in the air_

_That's the way we do it_

_Let's get to it_

_Time to show the world_

_We're all in this together_

_Once we know_

_That we are_

_We're all stars_

_And we see that_

_We're all in this together_

_And it shows_

_When we stand_

_Hand in hand_

_Make our dreams come true_

_We're all in this together_

_When we reach_

_We can fly_

_Know inside_

_We can make it_

_We're all in this together_

_Once we see_

_There's a chance_

_That we have_

_And we take it_

_Spiders everywhere!_

_Wave your hands up in the air_

_That's the way we do it_

_Let's get to it_

_Come on everyone!_

* * *

"And that's a cut!" Natasha shouted, as everyone broke their poses and sighed in relief. "Thanks, guys. That was really fun!" Clint looked like he had half a mind to say otherwise, but the scowl that Natasha gave him was definitely part of his opinion. And, if anything, Loki looked a lot more annoyed.

"I never want to film another musical again," May muttered from her place on the couch. "That was a hell of a lot of dancing and singing. I don't think I'll ever live that down." She was answered with a snort from Bobbi.

"May, you had less than ten lines. Try being me, and then we'll talk." May looked dubiously at Bobbi, who was curled into Steve's arm. Even though she was tall in her own right, she was still small next to Steve, despite the small height difference.

"That is true," Clint groaned. "I still never want to film another musical again. All of that dancing made me not want to move for a week." Everyone looked over to the corner where Tony had burst out laughing, a drink in his hand.

"_We were making a musical?" _

"Of course we were, Stark," Natasha scowled at him. "What else do you think we were doing?"

"Speaking normally?"

The rest of the team looked at each other, struggling not to burst out into hysterics as they realized what this meant:

_Tony was secretly a pink-loving musical brat. _

Clint failed first.

* * *

**Woo! Hope you guys enjoyed that! Read and review, pretty please? PLEEEAAASE? Best review gets the game-winning ball!**

**See you guys next week?**


	42. BONUS: SCOTUS

**Apologies if this is different or worse, I wrote this during my week in Driver's Ed...I've also noticed that I've been writing a _lot _of slash pairings lately, and for that I'm sorry to anyone that finds it squicky. BUT THIS ONE IS A MOMENTOUS OCCASION. SUPREME COURT FTW! Even though it was a week ago, I went to the greatest concert OF MY LIFE so I couldn't update. And you definitely don't want to hear this, sorry xD**

**Shoutout to...um..no followers, okay...that's cool.**

**Definitely had reviews, though. Thanks to rollaroclintasha and wanderingghost1257 for leaving great reviews! Have the ball!**

* * *

It had been a perfectly fine day on the Bus, which was...interesting, to say the least. Hunter and Fitz _hadn't _been terrorizing anyone for once (it was the only thing Coulson allowed, given that Fitz's health improved dramatically under Hunter's guidance), May and Skye hadn't attempted cooking, and there was a general aura of relaxation around the base. Coulson settled into his desk chair, his cup of coffee at the ready. The pile of paperwork was next to him, the manila folders stacked and asking to be filed. He picked up his coffee and took a sip, sighing in relief at its taste. _Nothing _would stop him from getting this done today, he vowed. _Nothing_.

Nothing, that was, until Bobbi's scream shattered the calm silence, shocking everyone into action.

Coulson was out of his seat in an instant, tearing out of his office like terror on two legs. May had unceremoniously dropped Skye on the training room floor and run towards the living room, the hacker right on her heels. Mack accidentally dropped a wrench on his foot, swearing as he hobbled into the living room. Nevertheless, they all skidded into the room one way or another, groaning when they saw Bobbi perfectly unharmed.

"Dammit, Bob!" Hunter exclaimed as he arrived with Fitz, the two of them noticeably out of breath and in various states of undress. "What the bloody hell was that for?" He motioned to all of the members of the Bus (minus SImmons, she apparently hadn't heard the call), who had their guns out. "We actually thought you were in some sort of trouble?" Bobbi just shrugged unapologetically, instead flipping on the TV and gesturing to the current news report. Hunter squinted at the screen, his expression comprehending as he read the text. "It's legal," he breathed, shock on his face. "It's finally legal in the States!"

"If you're referring to marijuana, Hunter, news flash: that was legalized in some states a _long _time ago," Skye quipped dryly, holstering her gun. Bobbi made yet another impatient noise and gestured to the screen again, looking close to hitting Skye in the head. The other girl finally examined the screen, the same light coming into her face as Hunter. Suddenly, she screamed and tore out of the room, causing everyone to jump. Her faint shout of "HALLELUJAH!" could be heard all the way down the hallway. Now, it was only May, COulson and Mack left who were just beginning to understand the news, May smirking a little bit as she realized what this meant for Skye. Coulson, for all of his father skills, looked utterly confused. May, still grinning, patted him on the back and headed off, most likely to find Skye.

Bobbi, meanwhile, had lept off of the couch and raced towards the lab, where Simmons was carefully measuring chemicals into a beaker. "Simmons!" she exclaimed, bursting through the doors. "Simmons, you won't believe what just happened!" She didn't even wait for the tiny scientist to try and respond before continuing, "The Supreme Court legalized gay marriage!" The biochemist looked about halfway to dancing around the lab, while her partner looked on slowly. Eventually, Bobbi's excitement boiled down, and she stared at Simmons, who still hadn't moved from her perch at the lab counter.

"That's great, Bobbi," she said in a half-strangled voice, no expression on her face. "It really is." Her hand had suddenly started shaking, and Simmons put the beaker down, emotion catching in her throat. A frown creased Bobbi's face as she strode over to the expressionless scientist, who was studiously avoiding her gaze. She hesitated, not wanting to touch Simmons in case of a volatile reaction.

"Jemma-are-are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Bobbi," Simmons answered, giving her a wan, tired small. It didn't completely reach her eyes, she noticed, and the barely suppressed frown furrowed her forehead as her green eyes studied her girlfriend, who, for one reason or another, had suddenly withdrawn into her quiet, meek shell. "It's just been a long couple of days, that's all." Well, she couldn't be blamed for that-they'd had a trying couple of days, which had included Ward getting his hands on Skye and kidnapping her for HYDRA-Hunter had kicked the shut out of him, May had once again fractured his larynx, and Simmons herself had had to shoot him with an ICER, an activity that haunted her nightmares daily. "I'm excited, Bobbi, I really am." Bobbi stepped away, suspicion still written into her eyes as she left the room.

"There's some pecan pie in the kitchen, if you want it," Simmons nodded her confirmation as the lab doors slid shut behind Bobbi, sighing as the lab was finally her own once more. Her mood soured, she simply picked at her chemicals, her interest in them lost. She _should _have been elated; she had indeed spent many a night imagining what a life with Bobbi would be like. Would there be kids? Would they both retire from SHIELD? (The answer to that had already been no from the get go, Simmons snorted to herself. They were both too entirely dedicated to the job.) How would they have kids? Would they be homeschooled? Boarding school? (No, definitely not boarding school. She'd read it on a blog somewhere that boarding school was a _very _bad idea.)

"Simmons?"

"Agent May." The petite Asian stepped into the room nervously, as if her mere presence could cause something to explode. (Which, Simmons thought, wouldn't be so far off-if chemicals were sentient, they probably would've been insulted by May's glares.) "What are you doing here?" Irrational panic began to bubble up-had she forgotten to debrief for something? "I swear I didn't encourage Hunter and Fitz to set off those bottle fireworks," she babbled, nervousness taking over. "And that turkey sandwich in the fridge isn't mine, it's Coulson, and that quart of your gelato I didn't really eat-okay, maybe I did, but that's beside the point, and I-"

"Simmons." It was funny how May could so effectively silence Simmons, who fell silent in an instant. "I'm not here to talk to you about any of that." Although it was good that she'd finally figured out who'd eaten the gelato. "Bobbi looks like she's about to shoot someone, and since Hunter is currently about to wreak havoc with Fitz, I figured it had to be you," Simmons inhaled sharply at the mention of Bobbi-had she really affected her girlfriend that badly?" May stepped closer, her posture and stance relaxing now that she'd addressed the problem. "Simmons, what's going on?"

"Well, as you know, your Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage," Simmons muttered, sitting down on the lab bench without really looking at May. "And this does technically mean I can marry Bobbi. I am completely aware of that." Instantly, her parents' words, soft but insistent, echoed in her head.

"_Reproduction requires a man and a woman, Jemma," her father had insisted in soft tones, his bifocals slipping down his nose as he sat across the table from a seven-year-old Jemma, both of them poring over books in matching forest green sweaters. "Just remember that it was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve," He'd then gestured to the bookshelf on the other side of the Simmons' dining room. There, on the top shelf, rested a Bible and a biology textbook. "I know you don't trust God, but I know you trust biology, Jemma. Just remember that they teach the same thing."_

"_Mummy, did you ever like girls?" she'd asked her mother a year later. Julia Simmons was standing at the stove, stirring a vegetable stew while a perky Jemma was perched on a stool on the other side of the kitchen, her pigtails swinging along with her sneaker-clad feet._

"_Whatever makes you ask that, honey?" she asked, turning to her daughter curiously, a hand on her hip. "Did someone tell you they liked girls?"_

"_Caroline Eby told me her mum liked girls," Jemma had informed her cheerfully, causing Mrs. Simmons to nearly drop her stirring spoon into the stew. The smaller Simmons didn't notice, however, and plowed right on. "She says that maybe one day she'll have two mums, and that it's completely normal for girls to like each other,"_

"_There's something wrong with Mrs. Eby," Jemma's mother said, turning the stove off to face her daughter. "Girls aren't supposed to love girls, Jemma. Nor boys and other boys. Love is purely between a boy and a girl. Anything else that happens isn't, least of all marriage."_

That phrase had stuck with Simmons over the years, echoing in her head whenever same-sex couples. It was why she'd pushed down her initial feelings of attraction to Bobbi. Of course, she'd managed to swallow her parents' words this time around, but marriage...marriage was a completely different story. Simmons had always believed in a fairytale wedding, with frills and flowers and everything of the sort. And that vision had always included her parents. But now...somehow, she doubted her parents would show up to see her getting married to another woman.

"Simmons?" May's calm but slightly worried voice brought her back to the cold, gray walls of the lab, where the senior agent was now looking at her, admittedly with some concern. "Jemma, are you alright?"

"Love is purely between men and women," she automatically blurted out, the words ingrained into her more than anything. "Whatever else happens isn't." Realizing what she'd just said, Simmons burst into tears, curling up into a little ball against the wall. May looked taken aback at the sudden show of emotion, but hesitantly reached out to Simmons, pulling her into an embrace. "Oh, May," she cried, shaking into her arms. "I can't marry Bobbi like this. I just _can't_."

"Why don't you tell me what was going through your head, Simmons?" May asked quietly. She already had some semblance of what Simmons had been remembering-most likely some defining lesson from her own childhood-but she had to hear it before proceeding.

"For my entire childhood, I was taught that loving the same gender was wrong," Simmons confessed. "That it wasn't love. But I know this is right, May, it's the rightest thing I've ever felt in my entire life but who am I to tell my parents I want to marry a woman and I've never been on an actual date with Bobbi and people are going to judge me and-"

"Shhhh, Simmons, calm down," May comforted, stroking circles around her back. "No one out there is going to judge you for being with a woman. The world's a lot bigger than you just your parents. You'll find that it's very accepting." Simmons was continuing to sob, so May continued, "I was raised by a conservative mother too, Simmons," she began. "She taught me a lot of traditional things-family values, a woman's role, and, like you said, a pretty good idea of who should love who. I didn't really break those until I went to the Academy." Simmons looked up, wholly surprised. "It's all a matter of balancing who you were and who you are," she advised. "You know that you're still the same daughter that loves her mother and father-and the one that's going to get married and have kids. It just happens to be with someone...they find unconventional."

"You've never met my parents, Agent May," Simmons sighed. "They tend to hold grudges for a _very _long time. Once, when our neighbors lost a dish of hours, my mother was giving her passive-aggressive glares for months. I don't want to think about what they would say if I married a woman."

(It was true May hadn't met Simmons' parents, but she _had _lived with her own mother for eighteen years...that had to count for something, right?)

"At the end of the day, it's you who matters the most," May assured her quietly, as Simmons sighed and scooted in closer to the senior agent. "If your parents can't see that being with bobbi is what makes you happy, then maybe they don't deserve to be in your life."

"I suppose," Simmons sighed. There was a bit of a silence before she finally says, "I was pretty bad to Bobbi, wasn't I?" She peeked out from May's embrace to see Bobbi herself standing outside of the lab, tears streaming down her own face. "...I also suppose she's heard everything I've said."

"It was for your own good, Simmons, and you know it," May said, getting up and opening the lab door. "I'm going to go check on Skye now-and I don't want to see neither head nor tail of you until this is solved." She placed a small hand on Bobbi's back as she passed by (trying to reach her shoulder would've been a comical moment that really didn't really fit into the situation), leaving the couple to themselves.

Bobbi crossed the span of the lab in a few strides, going over to the small scientist and easily picking her up in her arms. "Simmons," she sighed, easily arranging herself on the lab bench so that her tiny little bird was cocooned in her lap. At the intimate contact, Simmons started crying once more, her sobs soaking Bobbi's gold shirt. Bobbi's heart ached for the young, naive woman, so full of innocence and light. Jemma was everything she'd lost too early in her life-perhaps it was one of the reasons she was so emotionally attached to her. "Jemma, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I-I-I didn't want you to get the wrong idea," Simmons hiccupped, completely enveloped in Bobbi's embrace. "I love you, Bobbi, I really do-" An unexpected warmth shot through Bobbi's chest at that, and she clutched her girlfriend tighter. "-but I love my parents, and their opinion means everything to me and-"

"I never said we had to get married right now," Bobbi reassured her, combing a hand through her hair. "Hell, we don't even have to get married at all, if that's what you want. I was only excited because it meant we finally had the _possibility_." She drew back a still gasping Simmons, kissing her forehead gently. "There is nothing wrong with what we have."

"I know there isn't, and I know that it's got nothing to do with biology or genetics or mentality but it's _in _my head head that this-this isn't normal," Simmons gulped, looking at Bobbi pleadingly. "So you'll have to forgive me, Bobbi, if it takes a while to actually process that we can really be together now."

"Take all the time you need," Bobbi murmured to her girlfriend, as Simmons buried contentedly into her once more. "I'm going to prove it to you that this is okay," she whispered to no one in particular. "It's all the same, Simmons. Boys chase girls and girls chase boys.

"As long as we've got two hands one beating heart, we're going to be alright."

* * *

"COULSON!"

Coulson jumped, slopping his second cup of coffee of the day down his shirt. He scowled at the general direction of the door, where the combined shouts of Skye and Bobbi had emanated. "WHAT?!"

"AC, we need you!" Skye complained plaintively. Muttering incoherently under his breath about sassy hackers and being spoiled, Coulson got up from his chair, stalking down to the conference room where he found the aforementioned hacker, along with Bobbi and Natasha's image thrown up onto the video screen. "Permission to have an out-of-base field trip."

"Permission granted," Coulson mumbled. He'd come all the way from his office for _this_? "But what the hell is Romanoff is doing here?" Natasha rolled her eyes, sighing. "Are we planning some sort of party or something?"

"It's for Simmons," Bobbi said abruptly, making Coulson fall silent. "I want her to see that being with a woman isn't necessarily bad, and that society isn't going to judge her for her preferred partner. That being who she is is _okay_," She didn't mention that Skye had somewhat of her own agenda before calling Natasha-there were just some things that were better left until the actual day. "I want her to be comfortable with who she is." Coulson understood Bobbi's sentiment when it came to Simmons, and couldn't help feeling her shared emotion. "So we're going for dinner." She looked extremely proud of herself. "Italian. Breaks all the rules about traditional rules about dates. Nat and Skye are coming, too. But don't tell Simmons. She doesn't know yet."

"Fine. As long as you can be on call if we need you," Coulson shrugged. Personally, he wanted to see Simmons happy as much as Bobbi and Skye did. Just not too happy. He still had a reputation to maintain, after all...

* * *

"Jemmmmaaaaaa..." Bobbi bugged as she pounded on the door of Simmons' bunk, already dressed. "Hurry up, or we're gonna miss our reservation." Skye probably would have secured it first if she made it first, she mused, but Natasha was known for being notoriously late. _For an assassin, she was awful at being punctual. Or maybe she didn't like being on time when she didn't have to be. _

"I'm almost done, Bobbi," Simmons' voice could be heard from the inside as the scientist rushed around the room, clearly frazzled. "Ten seconds, I promise!" True to her word, Simmons emerged ten seconds later, looking flushed, but so beautiful Bobbi had to pick her jaw up off of the floor before it dropped again. "What?" Simmons asked, as Bobbi didn't seem to be capable of speech. She was in a strapless, sky blue dress, with a heart-shaped neckline that folded into a sort of wrapping before flowing out into a skirt that hit just above the knee. Skye had chosen it out of her closet an hour ago, shoving it towards the brunette and claiming that they were the same size anyways. A pair of silver platforms raised her height an inch or two, and Bobbi no longer had to bend down quite so much to kiss her.

"You're absolutely beautiful, Jemma Simmons." The words instantly fell out of Bobbi's mouth before she could stop them, and Simmons blushed once more all the way to the roots of her flatironed hair. "Someone tell me what I did to deserve you."

"If anything, it's me who doesn't deserve you," Simmons answered simply, placing a hand on Bobbi's cheek. It was a banter they constantly had, reassuring each other that they were worthy. It wasn't about inflating egos-both of them were far too humble for that-it was about keeping each other grounded, from everything in their pasts that threatened to consume them. "You look stunning tonight, Bobbi," The blonde had gone just as all-out as Simmons had, with a sparkling maroon dress that hugged her every curve. Simmons had seen it in Bobbi's closet before, way in the way back, but seeing it for the first time gave her a rush of just how emotionally attached she was to Bobbi, and she tightened her grip on her face. "Far better than I deserve."

"Come _on, _guys, you've got a reservation to make," Skye announced bossily as she bustled the pair down the hallway, her own hair in a towel. "I've got my own off-base plans tonight, and I can't leave until May gets back from dropping you guys off." She pushed them up the ramp of the quinjet. "I'll see you two when you get back. Have fun!" she called as the ramp began to shut.

"Wheels up in three," came May's crisp voice over the PA, and Simmons had to snort as she and Bobbi began to strap themselves in. Only _they _would be going to a restaurant via quinjet. Maybe life as a SHIELD agent wasn't _too _bad.

"Breathe, Jemma," Bobbi's arm was suddenly on hers. "No one's going to judge you." Simmons let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding. "It is perfectly fine to love another woman." Simmons looked at Bobbi with such adoration in her face that Bobbi had to melt a little. "And if anyone comes after you, I promise to kick their ass into next week." _And if they're unlucky enough that Nat and Skye are with me, they'll get their asses kicked three times into next week. _

Up front, May had to smirk when she saw Simmons and Bobbi cuddling into each other. She would never admit it, but she was fairly fond of what she and the rest of SHIELD had dubbed 'Mockingnerd'. (And yes, she _would _give grief to anyone that found out she'd made it up. Including Coulson.) She didn't ship it as badly as Skye and Romanoff, but...it came close enough.

* * *

"Morse, table of four," Bobbi gave a winning smile as she approached the hostess, her hand threaded in Simmons'. The aforementioned woman was still slightly skittish, looking around the dimly lit restaurant worriedly and jumping whenever someone brushed past her. "And could you try and put us in a back corner? It would really help a lot." She winked at the hostess (who was really just Pepper after a few threats and bribes) and gave a small giggle.

"I really hope she says yes," Pepper muttered to Bobbi as she led Simmons to their table. "I would hate to see the fallout that would happen if she said no." Luckily, Simmons hadn't yet noticed that it was Pepper acting as hostess and not some random woman, otherwise the whole act would've been up. "Not to mention my bet with Clint would've fallen through. Half of us would've been done for." They reached a table in the corner, perfect for Bobbi to keep an eye on any threats that might materialize. "So here's your table," Pepper announced, cheerfully handing them both menus. "Enjoy your night!" With one last wink to Bobbi, she disappeared.

"See, Simmons? There are plenty of people celebrating the Supreme Court decision," Bobbi said to Simmons, pulling her chair out for her. Simmons sank down carefully, warily avoiding looking at the same-sex couples, as if they would remind her of who she was. Of _what _she was. Bobbi immediately noticed, and sighed. It was time to play hardball before the night only got worse. "Jemma, are you ashamed of being with me?"

Simmons' head instantly whipped around to look at her girlfriend's, her prim mouth dropping open in shock. "Why, of _course _not, Bobbi! Whatever makes you think that?" Didn't Bobbi understand that it was _she _that had to prove her worthiness with those statements they made every single day? That Bobbi deserved better than to have a meek lab scientist as her significant other? No, in any case, it should've been _Bobbi _who was ashamed to be with her.

"Look at you, Jem," Bobbi sighed as Simmons continued avoiding every same-sex couple in the restaurant. "You're avoiding the gay like it's contagious. It's like you can't accept your orientation or something." She knew that deep down Simmons wouldn't hesitate to do anything to prove her allegiance to Bobbi, but out in public...that was a different story. "If you're ashamed, just say it. If not, prove it."

Simmons stuttered, her heart storming in her chest. But slowly, she leaned over, her hand caressing Bobbi's cheek. "Barbara Morse, you mean the world to me," she said softly, leaning in and capturing her eyes. "I will do absolutely anything for you, and don't you forget it." Simmons kissed Bobbi softly then, relishing the way the older scientist kissed-it was with a quiet confidence that was still sweet, like strawberries and watermelon. They broke apart, Simmons thumbing Bobbi's cheekbone with a featherlike touch.

"I'm not ashamed of being with you, nor am I ashamed of being who I am. I've lived my entire life being conditioned against who i am now-you'll have to excuse that, it'll take time." She smiled sweetly, and this time it reached her eyes. "But this-I think it's a step towards changing that." A kiss was laid on Bobbi's cheek. "Thank you." As she pulled back, however, her curiosity was piqued. "You told the hostess four people?"

"I invited two other people out to dinner-they'd old friends of mine, and I wanted to catch up." Nervousness gripped Simmons once more, and she looked at the spy in horror.

"Do they know-do they know about you?" It'd been awhile since Bobbi had seen any of her _actual _friends, Simmons figured, and some of them might be extremely behind the times. "Do they know about _us_?"

"Of course they do. They're spies." Bobbi answered easily, squeezing Simmons' hand reassuringly. A movement at the door caught her eye, and she nodded in a straight direction. "Look, here they come now." Sure enough, the hostess was coming towards their table once more, and behind her was..._Skye?_

"_Skye_?" Simmons spluttered, coming close to screaming. As Skye sashayed up, a smirk on her face, she burst out, "Not that I don't appreciate, Skye, but what exactly are you doing here?" The girl she saw before her looked nothing like the agent she'd seen an hour or so, now put up in a casual dress with a white top, three-quarter lace sleeves, that bottomed out with a navy skirt after being cinched by a thin black belt.

"I'm here for dinner, of course," Skye beamed, pulling out a chair. "Bobbi invited me," A wave of relief went through Simmons at that declaration-when Bobbi had mentioned her friends being spies, she'd expected Academy friends she didn't know. Not her best friend, who'd known about the two for ages, and would probably spend the night making jokes at her expense. That only left one question.

"Skye, did you bring a date?"

"Of course she did," slid in the smooth, sultry voice of Natasha Romanoff, and Simmons started as the Black Widow herself slid into the seat across from her, leaning in to peck Skye on the cheek. "It really was nice of Bobbi to invite us, especially given how you are about your relationship status, Simmons." Bright green eyes twinkled at the young scientist, who was still mentally freaking out that the _Black Widow_, of all people, was Skye's date.

"Skye-what-how-" was all she could get out. "_Agent Romanoff_?" First the entire thing required her to realize that a), she'd been living with another lesbian that _wasn't _Bobbi this entire time, and b), said lesbian was her best friend. "I can't bloody believe it," she managed finally. Bobbi let out a tinkling laugh, her blonde curls cascading as she threw her head back.

"Sounds like you've been spending too much time with Hunter," she snorted amusedly. "I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing." Even Natasha had to raise an eyebrow at that-having spent an extended amount of time with the merc herself, even _she _knew Hunter was best taken in small dosages.

"Bad thing. Most definitely a bad thing."

* * *

"...so, then, Barnes takes out this tiny little stapler, and starts chasing the hell out of Clint, and it's just going _snap snap snap snap _when _finally_, he staples Barton in the ass, and he just screamed so loudly I think Bruce almost Hulked out," Natasha finished, tears of laughter in her eyes. The four of them were nearly doubled over, having just heard the story of last week's incident in the Tower. Their plates were stacked upon the table filled their pasta, having called for their take-out boxes and the dessert menu some time ago. In an uncharacteristic move, all four of them had eased up on the alcohol-it'd been Bobbi and Skye who had refrained from drinking first, Simmons and Natasha sharing curious looks before ordering their own ginger ales. Needless to say, their curiosity had been aroused.

"Tiramisu?" Skye asked as the dessert menu arrived with their takeout boxes. "Or the bread pudding?" Bobbi held up two fingers, signaling her for both. "One of both, please," she said to the waitress, who scurried away to fill their orders. "I looked them both up," she shrugged when Simmons looked at her in surprise. "They were the best ones," The scientist frowned again as Bobbi tilted a head towards her, raising an eyebrow. Skye sighed exasperatedly. "I'm going to do it, Bobbi!"

"_Do what?_" Natasha and Simmons echoed. For Simmons, it was an insatiable curiosity, but Natasha's was bordering on a quiet anger. She feared for the spy's seething emotion-no one would be able to tell Natasha was angry until they were dead. Skye hesitated, her breath catching in her chest, and Simmons could almost _see _how Natasha's thought process jumped to the worst possible conclusion. The sparkle vanished out of her eyes, replaced by the walls she'd become so good at building over the years. Numerous times she tried to look at Skye, Simmons noticed, but looked almost painfully away, as if she was afraid that the emotion that was in her eyes would scare Skye away.

"Skye, just do it," Bobbi's tone was stern and encouraging at the same time. She saw how Skye's outburst had triggered Natasha's withdrawal, and the spy's pain was nearly tangible. While the redhead had been trained not to cry, Bobbi knew, the distress and depression were radiating off of her in waves. Something had to be done, and fast. "I'm going to the bathroom," she suddenly announced, jumping up from her seat. "Jemma, you're coming with me, too." When Simmons gave her a confused look, she hissed, "_Aren't you, Jemma?"_

"Of course!" Simmons squeaked a little too excitedly, jumping up from the table as well. "I, uh, have some problems I need to take care of and Bobbi's holding all of the stuff..." Her babble continued until they were both clear of the table, sprinting to the bathroom. Once they'd cleared a corner, she hissed, "...what the bloody hell was that about?"

Bobbi's grin was infectious. "You'll see."

* * *

"Skye, what's going on?" Natasha quietly asked, her mentality completely prepared for the worst. The former had absolutely refused to look at her since Bobbi and Simmons had scampered away. Skye was coming close to hyperventilating, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself down. Natasha frowned at the slight tremors in their drink glasses, grabbing Skye's hand to try and steady them. Eventually, Skye calmed down, her shoulders heaving only occasionally. "At least tell me you're alright."

"I'm sorry," Skye burst out, whipping around to face Natasha, looking desperately into her eyes. They showed emotions the spy's no longer did-unconditional, overwhelming, all-encompassing love. "I didn't mean for it to turn out this way." The light from the fake candles on the table cast Skye's face into shadows, throwing additional worry and fear into her already concerned visage. Yet, there was something about the dim glow that opened her up to almost a religious level, giving her a solemn, quiet air. In that moment, Natasha realized that Skye _wasn't _attempting to break away, but was rather throwing out all of her emotion instead, enveloping them both.

"For what to turn out this way?" Skye's eyes grew even bigger, if such a thing was even possible, and she took a final deep breath.

"I never believed in love," she began haltingly, taking both of Natasha's hands in hers. "After Miles, after Ward, after Cal-I never believed that anyone would come to love me unconditionally. I didn't believe that I was deserving of such a thing. I was completely prepared to settle down and live the single life and be a raging lesbian forever.

"And then you came along."

Natasha inhaled a sharp breath, having a slight inkling about what was coming.

"When I met you, I started to figure out what love was," Skye continued, her voice rambling slightly as she picked up speed. "It's seeing them for the first time every time you meet. It's not being afraid to look at them with every damn emotion you've got in your body. It's putting up with their highs and lows and loving it. It's needing their touch every single day and not being able to do without it. It's everything I have with you, Nat. It's everything I want, have and need for the rest of my life." Natasha's eyes sparkled with tears once more, this time with a completely contrasting emotion.

"I don't think I'd be able to live without you, Natasha. And-and I don't know if you feel the same way or not, but I'm just going to go ahead and do it." Skye took another deep breath. "You know as well as I do that the Supreme Court made gay marriage legal. And I'd like nothing more to call you my own. So," she began a little shakily as their desserts arrived, gesturing to what was supposedly a plate of tiramisu. Instead, what sat on the plate was a navy blue velvet box. Natasha looked at it in wonder, a hand clapped over the front of her mouth before turning back to Skye. The hacker had a hopeful look in her brown eyes, looking younger than she had in years. "Natalia Alianova Romanova-yes, I read your file," she said as Natasha grinned goofily. "Will you marry me?"

Silence.

"I wanted to ask you months ago," Natasha confessed quietly, picking up the box and opening it. It was a simple platinum band, engraved with the words 'Love is for children, so let me be a child'. They'd been the words she'd said to Skye once after a life-threatening mission. terrified of dying and even more terrified of losing her. "The plan was to head to Hawaii. Maybe elope on a beach. Clint and Coulson as witnesses." She slipped it onto her left hand, marvelling at the fit. "But I'm just as good it happened here and now."

"We could still do the Hawaii thing," Skye said shyly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "AC would be livid if he couldn't give me away or something." She looked towards Simmons and bobbi, who were both enthusiastically giving her the thumbs-up. "And I think Simmons _really _wants to be my maid of honor."

"Speaking of Mockingnerd," Natasha snorted, "I think someone owes me an explanation. Morse, get over here." She raised her voice so that Bobbi and Simmons heard her, Bobbi's shoulder slumping as she walked over to Natasha and Skye. "Did you know this was coming?" Bobbi nodded shamelessly. "Was I the only one who didn't?"

"Nah," Skye snorted, making them all jump. "Simmons didn't even know I was gay." Simmons' face grew red as Bobbi and Skye laughed at her, sputtering as she tried to come up with an explanation.

"It was-I-I was-" She was spared having to stammer something out by Pepper's brassy voice as the entire restaurant was shushed, all eyes on the four of them.

"Let's hear it for the happy couple!"

The entire restaurant erupted into cheers, most of them standing up and clapping for Natasha and Skye. The two of them took a dramatic bow, sharing a happy kiss as the cheering grew louder. Once it died down, Pepper made her way over to the table, simply smirking when she caught the tail end of Natasha's glare. "Oh, don't act like you're not happy to see me, Nat," she said as she went in for the hug. "You love me and you know it."

"You're just happy 'cause you finally won against Tony," Natasha muttered good-naturedly, but still giving in to the euphoria and hugging her back. "How much of this did you plan?"

"Twelve percent. An argument can be made for fifteen," Pepper tilted her head at Skye. "But I call zero percent when you three have to tell Phil."

* * *

They all expected for Coulson to throw a fit. Some unintelligible splutters and hand gestures later (they were all silently amused at how he kept gesturing with his handless arm), he was once again staring at Simmons, Natasha, Bobbi and Skye, who were all looking thoroughly excited. "So you're saying I have to decide whether to walk you or Romanoff down the aisle?!" Burying his head in his good hand, he sighed before yelling, "MAY!"

"'Bout time," May said by way of greeting as she strode into the room holding a tablet. "Another day and I would've lost to Stark." She shuddered. "I _hate _losing to Stark." She turned to Coulson. "You called?"

"I need to walk one of them down the aisle," Coulson groaned to a grinning Skye. "Please advise." May looked back and forth between the two women, both of whom had the potential to kill her should she choose wrongly.

"I'm not getting involved in this."

* * *

**I had to. I HAD to. It's also Pikapegasus' fault...as possibly every bonus plot I write will be. **

**Also, whoever reviews AND guesses the song reference I snuck in there, I'll let you prompt me for a future chapter! Just a review? Best one gets the tiramisu!**


	43. Paintball Wars in Stark Tower

**Welcome to twin-verse. This chapter comes off of the heels of Pikapegaus' kidnapping chapter in "But Uncle Tony!" We plot things together...a _lot_, as you can tell. **

**Shoutout to YamamotoFan, NativeSpinner, read'it'but'dont'believe'it, and Blue Phoenix 217 for following! **

**Best review goes again to rollaroclintasha, who is really just an absolute sweetheart. Have tiramisu :)**

* * *

"Momma, do you _really _have to go?"

Callie and Nicky were pleadingly looking at Natasha as she suited up to leave, her trademark Black Widow suit already on and at the ready. She paused in strapping her Widows' Bites on, the concern clearly in her face. It'd been a real battle to get her to go, despite Clint's assurances that the kids would indeed be fine under his supervision.

"You two won't be alone," she reassured them. "Daddy's staying home with you guys, and you've always got JARVIS, don't you?" Personally, Natasha was relieved at the idea that JARVIS would also be on hand to help out with the twins-she loved Clint and all, but sometimes, she didn't know if he was a parent or just another child to raise.

"Yeah, we're going to have tons of fun!" Clint interrupted, entering the room with his arms wide open. Callie and Nicky ran to him, shrieking in delight as Clint picked them both up. Natasha didn't notice the slight strain it took him to pick them up-they were getting heavier, and he older. It would soon come time for him to kick that habit. "_Much _more fun than when your mother's usually home." Natasha sent him an exasperated glare as she continued to strap on her weapons, Clint easily smirking at her in return. The three of them left the room, Clint still telling the twins everything they'd get to do over the course of the week the Avengers were gone.

The mission had required Natasha go along; the Avengers had been called to Russia to deal with a powerful branch of the Red Room, and everyone was to be in attendance. Even Bucky had been called on to fight alongside Steve, with much coaxing and convincing by he and Natasha. Unfortunately, this had been the week of all weeks: with Pepper in Santa Monica on Stark Industries business, the Bus team dealing with Inhumans in Guatemala, and Hill stuck with another batch of new recruits, there was no one around to watch Callie and Nicky. Well, except for Fury...but Fury was off playing dead.

She sighed one more time as she checked her weapons arsenal before picking her bag off of the mattress, heading out to the elevator. As she entered, the doors quietly whooshing shut, she closed her eyes briefly. This was the first time she'd left the kids alone with Clint; every other mission had defaulted into her staying home. What if she'd gone soft? Lost some of the edge that had made her every inch the lethal assassin she was? Would she be more of a liability than an asset? Would she need someone to end up covering her ass?

"Be rest assured, Miss Romanoff, that you are every bit as skillful as you were before the births of Callie and Nicky," JARVIS quietly chimed in, making Natasha crack an eye open at the elevator's security camera.

"Thanks, J."

"Finally, Romanoff!" Tony exclaimed as the doors opened and she slouched out, her bag slung over her shoulder. "About time you showed up. Everyone else is already here. What were you doing, saying your last goodbyes to Barton or something?" When Natasha opened her mouth to respond, Tony made a fake gagging noise, with the face to go along with it. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"Let's just get this show on the road, shall we?" She was already edgy about getting back to Callie and Nicky, and they hadn't even left the Tower yet. Here was hoping that her nervous energy translated into extra kills on the mission. "I want to get back as soon as possible." No one said anything-they knew that messing with Natasha in maternal mode was signing their death warrants.

"Are they gone yet?" Callie asked as she heard the roar of the Quinjet start up, the sound slowly fading as the team left. When she saw the living room empty, she ran into the space with a loud shriek. "WOOHOO! Now I can watch whatever I want!" She wasted no time scrambling onto the couch, her blonde hair flopping in her face she her blue eyes searched for the remote.

"Ah-ah-ah, not so fast, Callie Calzone," Clint teased, racing into the room with Nicky right on his heels. "You've forgotten about the _other _two people in the Tower already?" Callie rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of Natasha, holding onto the remote stubbornly. "Plus, I wouldn't want to turn on the TV just yet," he warned. "You never know what your Uncle Tony's left on."

Beside him, Nicky shuddered in a perfect imitation of Hunter, making Clint snort. He'd _known _making the Englishman Nicky's SO would come back to haunt him someday. "I've already seen what Uncle Tony's left on the TV," he said to Callie. "Aunt Pepper came in screaming and hauled me out of the room."

"And rest assured, I'll do the same thing," Clint answered, flipping on the TV and turning on the appropriate parental controls. Had this been regular TV, he wouldn't have been as concerned, but this was _Stark's _TV. Anything was possible, from _Arthur _to the latest live shooting of _Playboy _Magazine. (He had no idea why that was a channel. He wasn't going to ask.)

"BIG HERO 6!" Callie and Nicky shouted in unison as their father flipped past the movie, Baymax's beloved face filling the screen. "Big Hero 6, Daddy! Pleeeeaaaaaaase?" Callie had a pleading look on her face, which Clint could only assumed she'd learned from Steve.

"Didn't you watch that last week?" He vaguely remembered Tony trying to make a giant white balloon in his lab a few days ago, and Nicky running around with ball bearings, the eight-year-old claiming that they were microbots. "Are you guys _sure _you want to watch it again?"

He was met by a loud chorus of "YES, DADDY YES!". Clint sighed, putting the remote down on the couch. Callie and Nicky immediately settled into the couch, cuddling up next to each other as the action played out on screen. He stepped into the kitchen, fully intending to make some popcorn and maybe watch with the kids (after all, Stark had a three-time watch lead on him), when JARVIS _pinged _discreetly.

"Agent Barton, this might be something you want to see," Clint frowned at the AI's kitchen camera, in the middle of fishing some bags of popcorn out from the cabinet. "A video message has arrived for you, location unknown." Clint nodded at the camera, setting the bags on the table.

What came up made his blood run cold.

* * *

"Daddy, where are you going?" Nicky asked as Clint ran past, his form barely a blur. "Are we out of popcorn or something?" Naturally (and thankfully for Clint, who couldn't keep the worry off of his face), he didn't turn from the TV, he and Callie enraptured by the movie's plot.

"Daddy has to go take care of something _very _important," he said, already putting his bow and arrow across his back and tugging on his armor. "I promise to be back as soon as possible, all right? Be good for JARVIS-you know he can't chase you two around if you guys play hide and seek." Stopping in front of the couch, he paused the TV, making Callie and Nicky groan. "Now, I want you two to look at me," he said, and both twins quieted instantly. "I want you two to know that I love you very much, okay?" Callie and Nicky stared at him with solemn eyes, the maturity in them far beyond their age. "Whatever you do, keep yourselves safe. If someone comes into the Tower-"

"Pretend we're playing hide-and-seek and don't come out until you hear the secret word," Callie said solemnly. "Except if it's Uncle Lance...wait, if it's Uncle Lance, what do we do?" Clint had to crack a grin. Hunter _did _seem to be infamous for forgetting safe words.

"Ask him about your Auntie Bobbi. See if there are curse words involved. And if there are, run straight to your supervising officers-do you remember who they are?"

"Uncle Lance." Nicky.

"Auntie Bobbi." Callie, who seemed to grasp the severity of the situation, suddenly had tears in her blue eyes as she reached for Clint. "Daddy, you're going to come back, aren't you?" Her grip on his shoulders was suddenly ironclad, and he winced. _Must be Nat's serum starting to come into play. _"You're coming back, _right_?"

"I promise I'll come back, Callie," Clint promised, taking her hands off of his shoulders. "I swear by Asgard." Callie still looked uncertain at her father's fate, but let go of him anyways, suddenly looking like she was going to cry. "You two be nice to each other, okay?"

They nodded mutely. "I love you." Clint got up from the couch and headed towards the elevator. As the doors shut, he willed himself not to cry-there was a _very_ good chance he wasn't coming back alive.

If he'd learned anything about dealing with HYDRA, Ward, and his brother, it was that there usually weren't any witnesses left when they were through with them. If giving himself up meant that he wouldn't have to turn in the twins, then so be it. Turning them in would be worse than dying: at least this way, he wouldn't be killed several times.

* * *

"Has he left the building?"

"He's on his way here, sir."

"_Good_." Barney Barton looked over to his young partner, who was watching the cameras with a gleeful look on his face. "I always knew he'd do anything for his kids. The Russian assassin's made him soft." He turned to the cameras himself, watching the blonde and redhead stare at a TV screen, _Big Hero 6 _playing out. "Now I wonder who _else _would be willing to go to the ends of the earth for them..."

"Just about everyone in SHIELD, sir," the other man said off-handedly, hastening to explain when Barney looked at him. "Agents Morse and Hunter are the children's supervising officers. Agent Skye has a soft spot for the girl, herself." When Barney continued his look, he shrugged. "Coulson's database isn't what it used to be. They're getting lax now that they're under Stark."

"And all you want out of this is the earth girl," Barney said. He found it hard to believe that his partner would have such an _obsession _with the one with earth powers, but then again, it was hard to find someone with such a vengeance. "All of SHIELD at your disposal, and that is all you want?"

"You are wrong," the other man said, his hazel eyes hardening. "I want the children. They're Romanoff's spawn. _One _of them has to have the serum in them." They glittered now with the promise of revenge. "You of all people should know that discovery requires experimentation." Ward tilted his head, as if mentally conceding.

"Having Skye would just be the ultimate bonus."

* * *

"Do you think Daddy's going to be back?" Nicky asked after Clint departed. The movie had long since ended, and now both of them were sprawled out on the plush carpet of the Tower's living room. "He sounded like he wasn't going to come back."

"Dont be silly, Nicky," Callie huffed. Truth be told, she was just as scared, but harbored the fear-_someone _had to be the mature one out of the two of them. "If Daddy says he's going to be back, he's going to be back. Plus, Jarvie can tell us when he's on his way back so we can prepare a surprise for him. Right, Jarvie?" She frowned slightly when there was no answer from the AI. "Jarvie? Are you there?"

Still no response. "JARVIS?" Nicky tried this time, only to be still met with silence. "JARVIS, are you there?" More silence. He sat up worriedly, going through the procedures Uncle Tony had taught to him in case JARVIS ever went out. _First, check for the circuit breakers. _"I'm going down to the lab to check the circuits," he said to Callie. "Come on."

"I don't _wanna _go look at the stupid wires," Callie rolled her eyes. "They all look the same to me." She'd never really developed a fondness for technology, preferring instead to look at the pretty colors of chemicals. It might've been one of the reasons Bobbi was her SO..._maybe._

"Daddy said we had to stick together," Nicky insisted. Despite being the bigger twin by three minutes, he was always the more attached one. Natasha constantly insisted that it was Clint's personality that had given it to him, as she'd never been one to _be _attached. Clint had always laughed and said that Natasha's repressed attachedness had manifested in the twins as revenge. "Besides, what if you get attacked?"

"Oh, please," Callie snorted, still lying on the ground. "Have you heard how many times Uncle Tony's boasted about the Tower not being hackable?" If there was anything at all the blonde knew about technology, it was hacking. Having a mother _and _an aunt that were hackers sure came in handy sometimes. "There's no way anyone can get into the Tower unless they-"

_BOOM_.

Both of them shrieked as the living room window blew inwards, glass shattering everywhere. Callie and Nicky were thrown against the wall, the latter's head hitting it with a sickening _thunk_ before he went unconscious. Callie gasped at the thin trickle of blood running down her brother's forehead, tears springing to her eyes. _Not Nicky, _was all she could think. _Anyone but Nicky. _"Nicky!" she cried, attempting to shake him awake. "Nicky, you need to wake up! We need to go!"

Nicky's green eyes fluttered open as he let out a small groan. "Cal...Callie, are we playing hide and seek?" Her relief at seeing him alive was so crushing she almost forgot that they were being attacked for a moment, the sass coming into full play.

"Yes, because nothing is on fire and we're not about to be killed for Odin knows what reason so OF COURSE WE CAN PLAY HIDE AND SEEK, NIKOLAI." She grabbed his arm and hauled him up, crouching down as another window blew out. "Remember what Daddy said about people attacking us?"

It was Nicky's turn to roll his eyes at his sister. "What did you think I was talking about earlier, Catalina? _OF COURSE_ I was talking about hiding!" Suddenly, they heard shouts as the elevator door began to open. He began looking frantically for any sort of escape route, his face lighting up as he spotted a vent cover. It was wrenched open, and Nicky automatically crawled in, motioning for Callie to follow him. "Come on! We can get to a safe room!"

"I don't think so, squirt," came a masculine voice, and suddenly there was a pair of hands at Callie's feet, dragging her out as she clawed frantically for Nicky, trying to keep out of their grasp. She screamed, her feet finding little purchase against her assailant. Another set of hands groped inside the vent for Nicky, and he dodged the hands for as long as he could, going so far as to bend one upwards over the opening's top. Breathing heavily, he began to crawl along the passages, his mind racing about where he could reach a safe phone to call someone.

"You're not going anywhere, Nikolai."

Nicky's last thought was to wonder how the man knew his full name.

* * *

"Hello?" Clint called, pushing open the door with his foot. His bow and arrow were in one hand, ready to fire if needed. The address Barney had given him turned out to be an abandoned warehouse, moss growing from its dank, metal walls. He switched on a flashlight in his left hand, the beam not doing much for his range of sight. "Barney, where the hell are you?"

_BOOM. _

He whirled around at the sound of the noise, but it was nowhere to be seen. It had to have come from outside, Clint decided as he hurried outside. In the skyline, the Tower was now a giant pillar of smoke, fear seizing him and rendering him unable to breathe. _No, please not the kids, God, no, not the kids... _Mission forgotten, he was already hurrying towards the Tower, running around cars and taxicabs and whatever else lay in his path.

The two _had _to be connected. Someone _had _to have known that everyone would have been out of the Tower that day except for Clint, and from there it would've been simple to get him out of the Tower. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _He should've never left Callie and Nicky alone in the Tower. He should've investigated for more clues before dashing off like the macho man he was. And now the twins were trapped in the Tower, up against who knew what and they didn't have anyone to help him and-

"Sir, you can't go past the gate."

Clint stopped short at the police guard that was preventing his access onto the street where the Tower was. "I'm sorry?" he asked, frowning. This day may have gone to hell in a handbasket, but there was no reason to piss off a police officer.

"There's an attack going on. Emergency forces have already gone in, and we can't have anyone rubbernecking the scene and risking their lives," the guard explained, clearly not taking in Clint's bow, arrow and several guns. It took all Clint had not to roll his eyes-didn't they see that the emergency forces would be dead before they even breached the tenth floor?

"You've gotta let me in, sir," he pleaded. "Those are my kids in there!" With a slight hint of desperation, he pulled out his wallet, flipping for his pictures of Callie and Nicky. They were unceremoniously shoved into the guard's face. "See?"

"Tell that to everyone in _that _line," With a start, Clint turned around to see a large crowd of people, all of them pleading with the police officer on duty to get into the building. His mouth dropped open. "All of them claiming their kids are in that building. Please."

Clint let out a half-strangled gasp. He sunk down onto the curb, the knowledge that his children might die sending him to his knees. Closing his eyes, he sent one last prayer to anyone that might be up there.

_Take care of my kids. Please._

* * *

Callie's eyes slowly fluttered open, the fuzziness of her vision slowly clearing up as she blinked a couple of times. A figure came into focus, and she blinked a couple more times, squeezing her eyes shut as she saw it was the figure of Grant Ward. Granted, neither of the twins had met him before, but had heard enough stories from their aunts to know that any meeting with him would end up with one side dead. "Ward," she spat.

To her left, Nicky was still unconscious, hanging from a pipe by his hands. Callie struggled with her bindings, only to find with horror that they were about the same as Nicky's. "Why, Catalina, that's no way to treat an uncle of yours," Ward said to her, teasingly dangling the key from his finger.

"You'll never be my uncle," she spat back, her sass lessons with Bobbi (yes, that was indeed what they called them) kicking into high gear. _Never show that you're afraid. Insult as well as you can and as often as you can. Sass unless you're in immediate danger. _"You'll never be _anything _to me."

"Oh, really?" he asked, his smile growing. "Do, tell, then. Who _does _mean something to you?" Of course, he already knew everything there was to know-he just wanted to bide time until he was able to track down both teams and make the call. _We'll see who's the sassy one then. _"Pray tell, is it your Uncle Steve? Your Uncle Bucky? How about your Uncle Thor?"

"Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky are gonna come kick your asses," she vowed. Beside her, she heard a slight exhalation of breath; good, it meant Nicky was alive and playing unconscious for her sake. He was probably sighing at her use of language. (It wasn't her fault she'd heard Skye complaining about Ward one day.) "And then they're gonna use their super serum to send you far away."

An agent clad in black arrived with a phone, handing it to Ward. "Sir, both teams have been dialed." Horror dawned on Callie's face as she realized what this meant, and she thrashed against her bindings, cursing her short height preventing her from touching the ground.

"Would you like to _talk _to your uncles and aunts, Catalina?" Ward asked sweetly, his finger hovering over the TALK button. "Say your last goodbyes?"

"The only goodbye I'm going to ever have to say is to _you_," she answered, and, just because she was feeling obnoxious, spat in his face. He slapped her across the cheek then, the impact of it leaving a stinging imprint across Callie's face. "And don't _ever _call me Catalina." _The only ones who can are Momma, Daddy and Auntie Bobbi. And only when they're angry._

"Spoiled brat. I can see why Barton ran away." He didn't even look at the betrayal flashing across Callie's face before hitting the button.

* * *

"DC. Phone call," Skye handed the phone to Coulson in passing as she tried to wipe off the stone on her suit, sighing as she encountered yet another snag. She'd had to bring the whole place down with her powers, and _no one _had told her limestone stuck like a bitch. So here she was, wiping off stone while everyone else had blood and Inhuman guts to contend with. Much easier than stone.

"Ward." Instantly, everyone froze up at what they were doing, Hunter's hand even comically halfway to swiping sweat off of the back of his knee. "What do you mean, you have Callie and Nicky?" Without a word, the phone was placed on the floor between all of them, the uninjured sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"_I mean exactly what I say, Coulson,"_ Ward's voice oozed over the line, making Skye's stomach roil. She looked over at May, who looked just as sick as she felt. _"Say hi, Catalina." _Secretly, Skye hoped there wasn't another voice on the other end of the line, because if there was, it would well and truly mean the end of them. _"Say hi to your Uncle Phil."_

"_Uncle Phil?"_

"Callie? Are you alright?" It was Phil who jumped in first, everyone else being too gobsmacked by the horror that the twins were in Ward's hands. "Is Nicky next to you?" Bobbi and Hunter looked like they were either about to cry or shoot something, settling instead for gripping each other's hands tightly.

"_Y-y-yeah, Nicky's next to me," _They heard the ragged intake of breath, their hearts ripping into pieces at the sound of it. _"Uncle Phil, I'm scared. Daddy went away and he said he'd come back but then the window blew open and Nicky and I tried to crawl into the vents and Ward said Daddy didn't want us anymore and that's why he ran away and-"_

"_Shut up, little girl," _There was the sound of slapping, and Bobbi leapt towards the phone in a silent rage, only to be held back by Hunter. She let out a strangled sob, falling back onto her heels as Hunter took her into his arms, muttering soothing words. _"Ah, Agent Morse. Your heart always __was__ too big for your own good. Shame you didn't extend that to Kara when you sold her out."_

"I saved millions of other lives that way," Bobbi choked out, still fraught with emotion. "I would do it all again. Callie? Callie, are you there?" she called to her tiny agent-in-training. Every fiber of her being called out against this situation; this _had _to be some sort of hallucination induced by some sort of drug, it _had _to be, she'd prefer _anything _over Callie and Nicky being kidnapped, absolutely _anything-_

"_Auntie Bobbi?"_

"Hi," she whispered, feeling very small as she was smashed with the reality that this was indeed happening. "You're going to be alright, you hear me? You're going to be alright, I swear on my life," It was like the world had shrunk down to the two of them and the two of them alone. Bobbi raised her voice, the panic rising with the volume of her reassurances. "Just remember what I taught you and everything's going to be okay." She knew they might as well be shallow promises, but she had to try. The emotion overwhelmed Bobbi before she could stop it, and she blurted out, "I love you, Catalina, alright?" She couldn't stop the finality sinking in and began to sob once more, still quietly so Ward wouldn't find incentive to shoot Callie for real.

"_It's okay, Auntie Bobbi," _Callie quietly answered. _"As long as you're okay, I don't mind." _All of the Bus team sat in stunned silence as the eight-year-old's mature admission rocked them to the core: Callie had basically admitted she didn't mind dying as long as the rest of them survived. It was too much for Bobbi, and she began to hyperventilate, her teary gasps mixing in with her short breaths. Simmons, quickly alarmed, handed her a paper bag, watching concernedly as Bobbi forced it to her mouth, sucking in recycled air to calm herself down.

It wasn't working.

"_You, boy, wake up," _They could hear the sounds of slapping once more, and Hunter sucked in a breath as Nicky's raspy voice came over the line. He had a sudden feeling he was going to need Bobbi's paper bag-and that the entire team was going to see him cry for the first time.

"_Uncle Phil? Are you there?" _They all looked around as to who would speak-Coulson had become too emotionally compromised, so May took a turn instead. She leaned over the phone, her years of practice kicking into gear as she calmed herself down enough to extract the conversation she would need.

"Nicky? It's Auntie May, are you alright?"

"_My head hurts, Auntie May," _Nicky admitted, and May faltered for a second, her face falling. _"And my arms. I can't touch the ground, either." _He paused for second. _"Do you guys-do you guys have Momma?" _Their hearts broke even further-they barely had Hunter and Bobbi, let alone Natasha.

"No, but I'm right here, kiddo," Hunter answered, May backing away looking distinctly unsettled. He tried oh-so-hard to keep the emotion out of his voice, no one uttering a word when he failed completely. "Everything's going to be okay. We're going to come get you and Callie, you hear me? I just want you two to hold on for as long as possible." A thought struck him in his panic. "Hey, what'd I always say about you and me, Nickelodeon?"

It worked-they could almost _hear _Nicky smiling weakly. _"That we're a team," _Hunter exhaled quietly. _"Uncle Lance? D'you think you and Auntie Bobbi could do something for us?"_

"What's up, squirt?"

"_Could you tell Momma and Daddy and everyone else that I love them?" _If they'd thought Callie's admission was mature, Nicky's had really shown them what blessings Clint and Natasha had really given them. _"It's just...I don't know if I'm going to get to say it, but I want them to know."_

"No, Nicky, I won't," Hunter replied, surprising all of them. "You want to know why?" He ignored the glares the entire team was shooting him, Bobbi looking like she wanted to shoot him. "Because we're going to get you out of there or die trying." He hit the END button and turned to May, who was nodding with renewed resolve. "May, gun the throttle."

* * *

"Clint's not picking up his phone," Natasha muttered confidentially to Steve as the rest of them piled on the Quinjet. "He _never _misses a phone call. Ever. Not even when he's ignoring me. He'll pick up and then hang up."

"Maybe he's a little distracted, is all," Steve offered as Natasha hung up frustratedly once more. "After all, you left him with both Callie and Nicky-they're a handful." He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, though, and kept glancing around for signs of danger.

"I hope everything's alright," Natasha muttered quietly as she pocketed her phone, glancing over at the artifacts the team had acquired from their time in Russia. The mission in itself had been a success, with Natasha getting in several shots at her old heads before moving on. Just then, her phone rang once more, and she frowned at the private number it was displaying. "Romanoff."

"_Why, Natasha. Long time no see."_

"Ward," she hissed, nearly dropping her phone. They'd worked together once oh-so-long ago, a dirty mission with dirty objectives no one liked to remember. "What the hell do you want?"

"_Oh, it's not a question of what I want," _Ward replied, Natasha automatically putting the phone on speaker so that each of the Avengers could hear it. _"I think it's more of a question of what I __have__. And I think you'll find it very interesting." _They could hear the phone being walked over, and Ward's voice ringing out. _"Say hi, Catalina." _

Natasha inhaled sharply at the sound of her daughter's voice sounding so weak and distressed. "Callie, is that you?" Alarmed, each of the Avengers stared daggers at the phone. If Tony could have shot Ward with his lasers through the phone, he probably would. Mjolnir crackled threateningly in the corner, ready to unleash its power if need be.

"_Hi, Momma. Nicky and I are okay, I promise." _Callie seemed to struggle with something before asking, _"Have you seen Daddy? He left and said he would come back but he hasn't come back," _she told them as Natasha's anger began to boil. Had Clint really left the kids for his own selfish reasons? _"I'm scared he won't come back, Momma. I want Daddy to come back. __Ward said that Daddy ran away from us because we were spoiled brats and that he didn't want us anymore but I haven't been spoiled, I swear, the last thing I asked for was Widow's Bites like yours from Uncle Tony and-"_

"Callie, right now it's about you, okay? I want you to tell me if you're hurt." That was Steve, taking charge of the situation while Natasha was too shocked to function. "Are you bleeding? Is anything broken?" When Callie replied in the negative, he continued on a barrage. "How about Nicky? Is he okay? Is he injured at all?"

"_He hit his head really hard when the window blew up, Uncle Steve, and I think he has a concussion but he's awake right now. Uncle Bruce once told me to keep him awake if that ever happened so I'm keeping him awake. But I'm okay. I'm really okay."_

"What do you want, Ward?" Tony asked, skipping right past Callie's forced confirmation that she was okay. "Money? Redemption? I can get you the first one, but you're a little past the second one. Try on some other planet for that." If Natasha hadn't known better, she would've sworn Tony cared less about the twins than he really did.

"_Oh, I don't want any of that," _Ward simpered, enjoying the strangled sound he heard from Bucky. _"I just want you all to suffer...painfully...like I have." _There was the sound of several gunshots before the line went dead, each of the Avengers staring at the phone as if it would bring them back to life.

* * *

_They are NOT dead. _

The thought reverberated several times in Natasha's mind, the shots in her head echoing with every round of the sentence. _Catalina and Nicky are not dead, Natalia. They are __not__ dead. You are going to get your ass in gear and go save your children, and then go kill Clinton for leaving them alone. _Even the small pep talk Natasha gave herself didn't work, and she found her soul clutching at straws, holding on to any piece of evidence that her children were alive.

"Natasha, they're not dead," As if reading her mind, Tony confirmed what she most desperately needed to hear. "I've just gotten JARVIS back online. Ward's making his rounds around the Tower and there's no one around the kids, save for a couple of guards." Determination gleamed in his eyes as he flipped his mask back on. "We're going to get them back, mark my words."

This time, it was Steve's phone that rang, he warily glancing at it before seeing that it was Coulson, answering it. "Coulson, we've got a bit of a situation." _A 'bit' of a situation didn't even begin to cover it. _

"_Please tell me your situation involves a bastard named Ward getting his hands on the twins and kidnapping them in the Tower." _Coulson's voice came panicked over the other end of the line, still slightly calm and collected. _"And please tell me your immediate plan involves storming the Tower and killing everyone."_

"I'll one-up it," Bucky announced grimly, cocking his gun. "Let's make a game out of it, shall we?" When everyone looked at him, he shrugged. "I've always wanted to have a paintball war in the Tower." He leaned into the phone and spoke directly to Coulson. "Phil. Get your agents. Every man for himself in that Tower. Shooting wars are _on_."

* * *

"Where's Clint?" Coulson asked as the two teams met a block from the Tower, keeping the element of surprise so as to not alert Ward. "Isn't he with you?" He didn't miss the way Natasha's emerald eyes flashed at the mention of Clint, how her stance changed, or the way her lip curled slightly. "Natasha, what are you not telling me?"

"Clint left the kids alone to chase down his own missions," Natasha spat out bitterly, the resentment clearly in her tone. "He's dead to me." Coulson just stared behind her as Clint came racing up to them, his quiver in his hand.

"Nat, you have to let me explain," he panted as Natasha crossed her arms, her eyes daring him to come up with a good explanation for this. "Look, JARVIS gave me a video message that turned out to be from Barney, claiming that he would take the kids if I didn't go, so I went, and it was only after I heard the explosion that I raced back to the Tower but there was a damn police perimeter set up so I couldn't get back into the Tower and-"

He was cut off with a hearty slap to the face from Natasha, and as soon as he'd recovered from that, Bobbi, Hunter and Skye were next, all of them taking pains to slap him as hard as possible. Coulson was last, settling for a slap upside the head. "Common sense, Barton" was all he said to him, sighing. "Didn't you learn anything from that time in Seville?"

"You are _never _staying home again," Natasha hissed at him. Somewhere under all of the anger and passion lay a strong undercurrent of betrayal, one of broken trust and bitter disbelief. It was a trust that'd taken Clint years to build up, shattered in the course of a day. "You're lucky you're not dead right now." She jabbed a finger in his face. "I don't want to see your face after this." Both of them knew she didn't mean it-Natasha needed Clint a _lot _more than either of them wanted to admit.

"Alright, you two, save it for later," Hunter quipped, loading up a semi-automatic with magazines. "We have children to rescue and a bastard to kill." He tapped his earpiece. "Everyone plugged in?" They'd made a call to Pepper earlier, the CEO sounding desperately worried but willing enough to partake in the scorekeeping. 'Anything to help kill the son of a bitch', she'd vowed.

All of the Bus team was equipped with various guns and firearms, Hunter being the only one carrying his precious semi-automatic. (Let it never be said he wasn't dedicated to Nicky.) FitzSimmons was not only armed, but dangerous as well, Simmons having synthesized the chemical bag from _Big Hero 6, _one slung around her shoulder. She'd planned on bringing it to their next visit to the Tower-it was a shame it would have to be debuted this way. On her other side, Bobbi was loading one up as well, the biochemist also having filled hers with biological toxins.

Fitz had just brought his regular gun, but Simmons had quickly come to his rescue, creating eye beams that shot at whatever he blinked at. Even Coulson was getting in on the action-FitzSimmons and Mack had created a prosthetic fit that delivered a stab to whomever Coulson jabbed his arm into. Needless to say, the entire team had stayed away from him for a couple of days while he got used to it.

"_I've got everyone," _Pepper echoed in everyone's ears. _"Is everyone ready?" _There were many murmurs of 'ready', 'let's do this', 'let the hunger games begin', and one 'I will _kill _the son of a bitch' from Bobbi.

"Just a minute," Natasha said, catching everyone's attention. They all turned to face her, silently asking the question. "When we get there, Grant Ward is _mine._" There were several snorts, mostly from May, Bobbi and Skye.

"As Callie's SO, I'm afraid I'm going to have to say it, Nat: _not if I get him first, bitch_," Bobbi answered, warming up her batons and gun. "I'd like to have a few words with him before I'm pitching his dead body off of the landing pad."

"Not before I get to him," Skye vowed, experimentally quaking a traffic cone in front of her for practice, grinning in grim satisfaction as it vibrated several times over before falling. "You both are _on, _biatches."

It was May who was the quietest, her vow coming out the most deadly as she cocked her gun. "I think you three might want to take a number."

* * *

_BOOM. _

"I'm scared, Nicky," Callie whimpered, her chains rattling as an explosion shook the Tower. "The explosions are starting up again." She could feel the pipe holding up her chains vibrating, and suddenly, the section fell out, Callie falling to the ground as her arms were once by her side once more. The muscles between her shoulders and arms cried out as they returned to their normal positions, and she searched for something that would break the cuffs, giving them an experimental tug. To her surprise, they broke apart with a _snap. _She grinned. Guess the serum really _was _manifesting in her. Either that, or Ward had bought _really _cheap handcuffs.

"Callie?" Nicky whispered, still dangling by his own cuffs. "Callie, how'd you do that?" He tried pulling downwards, frustrated that his section of pipe wasn't falling out like hers had. Callie looked around the living room for something to hit the pipe with, her blue eyes lighting up when they fell on her own section of pipe.

As the vibrations continued, Callie worked frantically to find some sort of ladder-she didn't know when they would stop, although she harbored a small hope that Skye was the one behind them-and finally dragged a barstool over to where Nicky was hanging, climbing on top of the stool. It wobbled slightly as it vibrated, and she sucked in a breath, the pipe in her hands.

_Don't be scared, Callie. _

_You've got this, Callie. I have faith in you. _

_You're going to do this and you're going to kill it. _

_I love you, Catalina. Always remember that._

The words of her mother, supervising officer and aunts rang in her head, and Callie straightened up on top of the stool, raising the pipe despite the pain, and brought it down on Nicky's section of pipe. There was a loud CLANG as Nicky and the pipe fell to the ground, the pipe clattering to the ground as Nicky shook off the phantom pains in his limbs. "Glad we've got that solved," he quipped, the rasp in his voice still slightly audible. He tugged at his cuffs, hoping they would come off just as Callie's had-but no luck. "Although there still is this..."

Suddenly remembering that her mother kept some sort of weapon on Callie's clothes-_always, _despite her protests, Callie reached for her white belt, sliding off the end of it to reveal a barely-there blade. Being careful not to slice her hand open, she cut through Nicky's chains like they were butter, carefully putting it back on once he was free. "We need to get out of here," he said to her, and she nodded, pulling over the vent cover once more.

"No," Callie said to him, shaking her head. "That's what got us captured last time. We need to head for a _real _bunker." She headed over to the large bookshelf, frowning at it before pulling out an extremely worn copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_. Suddenly, a large section of the bookshelf opened up, a gaping hole leading into blackness. One by one, lights lit up, showing the slide that led to Tony's lab. "Uncle Tony and Auntie May made this for me the last time they were here," she explained to a gobsmacked Nicky. "There's a plane at the end of the slide." At Nicky's look, she wilted a little bit. "Okay...so maybe she might have taught me to fly, too. But for the record, you learned how to play weaponized baseball with Uncle Mack!"

They quickly hopped in, the shelf closing behind them as they slid, Nicky screaming while Callie took the opportunity to sigh, relaxing for a brief moment. She'd need it before she ran pre-flight checks on their craft-Bobbi had always taught her to breathe before flying. The slide opened into a small craft, both of them landing on the floor with a loud THUD. _"Welcome, Callie and Nicky," _JARVIS' English accent greeted them once more, Nicky sighing in relief. _"Shall I begin pre-flight diagnostics?"_

"Definitely saves me from doing them, thanks Jarvie!" Callie chirped as she slid into the pilot's seat, Nicky hopping in beside her. "Although you think you could pull up a list of safe houses?" Her brother stared at her in shock. "I don't wanna use them, but if we have to, we'll go,"

"Sometimes I wonder how you're three minutes younger than me," Nicky said, his red curls bobbing as he shook his head disbelief. "How am I the older brother again?" JARVIS beeped as he finished his diagnostics, and Callie went into total focus mode as their plane lifted off, the eight-year-old stealthily piloting between buildings so as to not be noticed.

"We'll just go touch down in Brooklyn for a bit while we check supplies," she said as they headed out over the highway. "I want to be prepared in case we have to go dark." Yup. She was _definitely _spending too much time around Uncle Phil, Nicky decided, and growing up faster than she needed to.

* * *

"I still can't believe we let _Hunter _go in first," Skye complained quietly into her comms. "I still think sending in Bobbi would've been the smarter move." They had indeed allowed the merc to go in first, the argument being that a semi-automatic would make for a better beginning casualty. At that very moment, Hunter was charming his way into the building, using his clueless English accent to pretend he was lost.

"Alright, children, I'm in," came his voice over the com, and he went silent for a while as they heard the sounds of shooting, each of them mentally tallying up how many people he hit. "Don't worry, I'm leaving some of them for you. Wouldn't want to win the game _too _easily now."

At the signal, the rest of them leapt into action, Tony, Sam and Thor flying up to the upper levels to tackle the HYDRA agents that had taken station up there. The others charged the building with various war cries, any previous mission fatigues forgotten. Bobbi was slicing people left and right, a beautiful fierceness in her expression as she committed casualty after casualty. Soon, she was left fighting the last man on the floor, limbs flying as they fought in hand-to-hand.

With a loud cry, Bobbi jabbed her baton into the man's eye, letting out a scream as he fell to the ground writhing with pain. She stood over him, her blonde hair matted with blood, her chest heaving with emotion. As the rest of the Bus team approached, nervous, she gave them all a look. "Don't you dare fucking tell me that it wasn't necessary," she growled. "You know damn well I needed that."

"No one's saying you didn't, Bob," Hunter ventured. "No one's saying you didn't." They all turned to the elevator as it _dinged, _more HYDRA agents spilling out, freezing at the sight of the SHIELD agents and Avengers. This time, it was Bucky who did the honors, shooting them all precisely in the heart.

"That wasn't even a tenth of what you've started, buster," he growled to one of the fallen agents, rearing his arm back and punching the man in the chest so that the bone caved in. With his other hand, he caught the elevator so that the doors slid back open. "Come on. If we don't get going, Stark, Thor and Wilson are going to win the whole damn thing."

* * *

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Tony sang as he patrolled the upper floors for any sign of Ward and his henchmen. He caught a flash of dark brown hair streaking around on the fiftieth floor, and he immediately dove in, repulsors blasting. Crashing through a window, he found Ward pointing a gun at him, no signs of shaking. Tony cocked an arm at him, firing off a warning shot. "Screw the games. You've got my niece and nephew. You'd better fucking run." He gave chase as Ward took off, not wanting to shoot him-if he did that, he'd surely die. Gaping holes erupted as the chase continued, Tony also taking the chance to shoot any henchmen he saw passing by.

"_Update for everyone, I think Bobbi and Natasha are tied," _Pepper's slightly amused voice filtered through their comms. _"Skye's in a close tie for second with Hunter, and spoiler, I don't think Clint's far behind." _

"_Damn."_

"_Come on, Skye! Leave some fun for the rest of us!"_

"_Lady Romanoff, must you take so many targets?"_

"_If I order you two to stand down, will you?"_

"_No," _That was Bobbi and Natasha, both of them grinning at each other as they worked in tandem to kill more agents, their guns firing in near synchronization. Behind them, Skye was sending out seismic waves left and right, singing to herself as she casually killed them.

"Can't be serious, no-oh, not keeping a straight face, no, I know where this is going, oops you're dead!" she exclaimed happily, toppling the last of them. May just looked at her weirdly, while Skye shrugged. "What? They have Callie and Nicky, I think I'm allowed to have fun killing them." She shot the man attempting to sneak up behind her, letting out a whoop. "Hey, May, I think I'm finally over my fear of singing during fights!"

May watched as Coulson was launched off of Steve's shield a la Romanoff, and she had to snicker as she saw the gleeful look on his face as he arced through the air, sending a spray of bullets through several men before landing on the other side of the room. In fact, she could almost swear that the event heightened his adrenaline, for he landed ten shots in a row without missing. She could barely do eight.

"_And Natasha's taken the lead over Bobbi," _Pepper proclaimed, and Bobbi let out a shot in surprise, nailing a HYDRA agent in the head. She sprinted towards the elevator, smacking the button. _"Skye's in third place, Hunter in fourth. I'd look out, though, Clint's about one or two shots behind."_

"Roger that," Hunter said to Pepper as the elevator dinged, taking out the HYDRA agents that swarmed out of it. "Am I above Barton reasonably yet?"

"Screw you, Hunter."

"Sorry, mate, I don't swing that way," Hunter chirped as they piled into the elevator, JARVIS taking them to the next level that was infested. "Your daughter's SO, on the other hand..." The entire elevator burst into laughter as Bobbi rolled her eyes, smacking Hunter upside the head. They went quiet, however, when the doors opened to the Avengers common room, with Ward pinned to the ground by Mjolnir.

"Well," Coulson quipped. "I guess it's solved. He's not worthy," There was another explosion that rocked the floor beneath them, the team looking among them to see who was missing.

"Where's Skye and FitzSimmons?" May asked, frowning.

"Wouldn't you like to know, May," Ward wheezed out, still managing to sneer despite his position on the floor. "Tell me, any of them proposition you as well as I did? You _did _say to me once that you went both ways, after all-"

He was cut off by May aiming a booted foot at his head, and a loud roar of "SCIENCE, BIATCH!" before the elevator doors shut behind them, presumably to head to another level. Ward sputtered a bit before shutting up.

"I think we've established that FitzSimmons is alright," Clint said, smirking a bit. "Now. Anyone seen Skye?" Their answer was delivered to them in the form of the elevator opening once more, revealing Skye with a large chainsaw in her hand.

"I took this off of one of the HYDRA goons on my way up," she said cheerfully, hefting the chainsaw in her arms. "Can I use this on Ward?" The look of pure fear on Ward's face was absolutely priceless, and Natasha couldn't help but whip out her phone to take a picture. Skye started the chainsaw, cackling madly. "Prepare to _die, _you son of a bitch."

"You cut off his head and I'll fucking kill you, Skye, I swear to god," May said, cocking her gun at the hacker. Skye froze, shutting off the chainsaw and putting it down. To her left, Natasha and Bobbi were staring at Skye with exasperated looks on their faces.

"You're no fun," Skye muttered, striding over to them. She glared at Ward. "Where the hell are Callie and Nicky?" The fear disappeared once more, and this time it was Ward who began to laugh, blood spurting out of his mouth as he cackled.

"I'm afraid you're already too late, my dear Skye," he told her. "They've already been taken for testing. Discovery does require experimentation, after all." She heard Natasha and Mack's soft gasps behind her, and Pepper's smashing of what seemed to be a stapler against the wall. "Soon enough, we're going to _really _see what they've got inside of them." Natasha's eyes widened-she knew Callie had inherited some of her serum. Nicky she didn't quite yet, but seeing as they were twins, it had to manifest sometime.

"_If I may cut in, agents," _JARVIS announced in their earpieces, _"both children are currently safe and sound on the aircraft Master Stark and Agent May constructed some time ago. Miss Callie is piloting, while Mister Nicky is sleeping in the copilot's chair." _

"_That's my girl," _Pepper announced proudly, while Bobbi and Hunter celebrated under their breath. May was a little less public about her celebration, and just simply smiled to herself in satisfaction. After all, she _had _taught Callie to fly.

"So there's nothing stopping us from killing you, eh, punk?" Bucky asked Ward, who had gone white once more. "All right, Avengers and Bus team," he said loudly, cracking his knuckles. "Who wants to execute plan Dodgers?"

"What's plan Dodgers?" Fitz asked as he and Simmons arrived in the elevator, both of them covered in various chemicals and blood. "Did we miss something?" He caught sight of Ward on the floor and grinned. "Ah. Ward. Simmons, if you will." Simmons' fingers flew over her periodic table, and a small clear ball came out of her bag, getting handed to Fitz. Grabbing it, he strode over to Ward and smashed the ball over his torso, smirking as the man roared in pain. "Sulfuric acid. Hope you like it." He shrunk back from the glares Skye, May, Natasha and Bobbi were giving him. "He's not dead yet! Just..severely burned!"

"Someone has to kill him," May hissed. "Rock, paper, scissors, right now." She, Skye, Bobbi and Natasha gathered in a circle, holding their fists out.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" To their surprise, May, Natasha and Bobbi all held out palms, while Skye held out two fingers.

"I thought you were going to do rock!" Bobbi accused May, glaring at her.

"I'm a spy, Morse. I never tell the truth on these sorts of things!" May answered, planting her hands on her hips. "If anything, go ask Romanoff!"

"What made you think I was going to play fair?" Natasha sighed. "Great. Now Skye gets to kill Ward." She fixed a steely glare on the hacker, who shrank back in fear. "Make it good, or else you'll be the next one."

"Alright guys, let's go! Plan Dodgers!" Skye clapped her hands. "Thor, you pitch. Steve's on first. Bobbi's on second. Hunter, you take third. I'm the shortstop. May, Nat, Clint, Bucky, outfield. Coulson, umpire. FitzSimmons, sideline taunting. Tony, Sam, aerial support. Make sure it gets to all of the bases and outfields. Mack," she grinned. "you're up at bat."

Thor hauled Ward up bodily, the latter's eyes going wide as he realized what was going on. The Avengers and Bus team formed a very rough diamond, with each of them taking their assigned positions. Curling up Ward into a ball, several bones cracking, Thor pitched him towards Mack with an alarming speed, who barely just managed to hit him with one of Tony's Iron Man arms. Ward went flying towards Steve, who threw his shield, causing him to fly upwards towards Tony. He was then shot in turn to the outfielders, Natasha, Bucky and May all punching with every rage in their body. Clint chose instead to put an arrow through his foot, effectively sending him to second base, where Bobbi did some swinging of her own, using her baton to send him flying headfirst to Sam.

"Thanks, Morse," he joked, easily catching Ward and working in a punch before chucking him to Hunter. "I always wanted a bloody man as a present from you." Hunter had loaded a bazooka (non-lethal, of course) and shot it at Ward, propelling him towards home plate. Coulson shot him once in the stomach and in each arm while Ward was sailing towards Skye, and for the final hit, she put two bullets through his heart before quaking him out the window. They all watched as he sailed down, not a sound to be heard except for the wind whistling through the shattered glass.

"_Momma? Daddy? Is there anyone out there?" _Callie's worried voice echoed through all of their comms, and nearly everyone scrambled to shout the agreed-upon safe word.

"KIMBERLY TOFU!"

"Well, we're going to need a new safeword," Natasha said as Callie and Nicky burst into a fit of giggles. "I think the entire city heard us shouting that." She looked at Tony and May. "Really, you two? Building a plane? Teaching her how to fly?"

"Well, Auntie Skye taught me how to swear?"

"_CALLIE!" _There was a large stampede to hug the blonde eight-year-old, who was gasping for air as she was grabbed into a group hug by all of the women and Clint, while the men stood off to the side, choosing to hug Nicky instead.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Natasha said, embracing her daughter one more time. As Callie hugged her back, tears leaking from her eyes, she couldn't help but notice the trembling in her daughter's arms. "Callie, did they do anything to you?" Her daughter frantically shook her head, still clutching tightly to her mother. Nicky ran over to his mother as well, he and Clint completing the emotional family moment.

"Daddy, why did you leave us?" Nicky whimpered after they broke apart, fresh tears beginning to brew. "Did you really not love us anymore?" Natasha sent a glare to Clint-_see, this is what you did, you'll be sleeping on the couch for a week-_and crossed her arms, waiting patiently for an answer.

"I would _never _leave you," Clint answered, grabbing his kids tightly. "Remember that I told you I had a brother that didn't really like me?" They nodded. "Well, he wanted to take you guys. I had to go stop him before that happened."

"Oh, that guy?" Fitz asked, frowning. "The one that looked like you but had a hideous green bow and arrow? I think Simmons shot him." The aforementioned scientist turned a great shade of red, ducking her head to avoid unwanted attention.

"He was going to shoot Bobbi and Hunter."

"Speaking of Auntie Bobbi," Callie broke free of her mother and ran towards the spy, grabbing on tightly to her leg. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice muffled in Bobbi's shirt. "You told me what to do when I needed it." Bobbi nearly burst into tears once more at that, choosing instead to crouch down and tuck her chin into the girl's shoulder.

"Well, I say we all go celebrate this," Tony said grandly, making a touchdown onto the floor. "How does shwarma sound?"

"You mean we're going to have shwarma?!" Nicky exclaimed happily. He'd never had the food, the rest of the Avengers claiming that it was only after a battle.

"Yep. Shwarma for you, buddy." Tony ruffled his head. "For being such a kickass fighter today."

"Language!"

"Oh, hush, Uncle Steve, Auntie Skye's said a lot worse!" Skye quailed under all of the gazes that turned to her, looking extremely nervous.

"I swear I had a reason!"

* * *

**I'm REALLY sorry if you liked Ward. But I'm kind of not. Writing Ward baseball was too much fun. Read and review? Pleazles? best one gets a chem bag! **


	44. Dubsmash Wars

**If you haven't seen the dubsmash wars between Team Carter and Team SHIELD..do it. It's great. Also, apparently last week's chapter has labelled me a bit of a sadist...NO REGRETS FOR WARD. **

**Shoutout to Kikyotiger, KTstoriesandstuff, jwlinder, AvengerFrost and PrincessMadiC123 for following!**

**Best review ties to ilikehats2 and rollaroclintasha! (honestly...for the latter it's three weeks in a row no one else really wants these things do they?) THE CHEM BAG IS YOURS PLEASE DON'T MURDER/SEVERELY BURN ANYONE UNLESS IT IS WARD**

**Also, apparently everyone and their mother (aka rollaroclintasha, thank you) wanted to see some CaptainQuake, so...here it is! Hopefully I'm able to touch on it again another time, because it isn't too prevalent here. **

**Handles are from chapter 31. flyingfalcon is Sam, brightmetalarm is Bucky. **

* * *

_Falsetto or no falsetto..._ Tony wondered as he soared over the city of New York in his Iron Man suit. The team had just returned from a mission in Bangladesh which had required nearly all firepower, and dragging Bucky out of the Tower had been a task in itself. Steve had only managed it after bribing Bucky with a large stack of pancakes from IHOP after the whole thing over. Currently, the rest of the team was flying back via Quinjet, with Tony and Sam choosing to use their wings. "What the hell, it's not going to matter. I'm lip syncing to the damn thing. JARVIS, fire up the app."

The lyrics appeared on screen in italicized font on Tony's visor, and he flipped his faceplate off, wanting to show his face when he filmed video. Besides, he knew all of the words to the song anyways. _"Beginning filming in 3...2..1..." _Tony held his StarkPhone up to his face, listening for the opening strains of music. When they came on, he stopped firing his thrusters, going into free fall.

"_It's time to try defying gravity_

_I think I'll try defying gravity_

_And you won't bring me dowwwwwn_

_Bring me dowwwwnnnnnn"_

"_Sir, Miss Potts is trying to contact you," _JARVIS' voice sounded in his ear, and Tony jolted, the video having finished recording. He was now only just aware of the wind whistling past his ears, and the ground was _definitely _approaching faster than he'd like it to. _"She insists that she know just, and I quote, 'what the hell you're doing, Tony, falling the span of the New World Trade Center? You could've died!'" _

"Thrusters up!" Tony burst out on a gasp, the thrusters immediately firing up and giving him some height before he smacked his faceplate back on, only to be met with an irate Pepper Potts. "Uh...hi, Pep," he said sheepishly, which didn't do anything to ruffle his girlfriend's feathers. "How've you been?"

"_Tony, the rest of the team's been back for an hour now, and you're still out flying around town when I get this notification from JARVIS that you just dropped almost 2,000 feet! What do you want me to say?!"_

"You'll see why in a few minutes, Pep," Tony told her, smirking to himself as he pushed himself back up to a reasonable height. "You'll see." He missed Pepper rolling her eyes, ending the call and pulling up his Twitter feed. The video was quickly posted, Tony doing a mental fist pump as he wrote out the caption:

**noonetellpepper: **I'd like to see the Jolly Green Giant do _this_. Top that, Elphaba.

The replies came in almost instantly.

**tonyisnowdead - noonetellpepper: **This is not a good response to 'what I was doing falling 2,000 feet', Tony. #youcouldvedied

**notajollygreengiant - noonetellpepper: **I'm not topping this, Tony. I don't think the Other Guy likes falling 2,000 feet.

**awcoffeeno - noonetellpepper: **Tony, that isn't defying gravity, it's being stupid and helping it. (4:58 pm)

Tony sighed. Since when had Barton become such an expert in aerodynamics? The last time he checked, _he _was the one with the degree in physics, not him. And he'd done the math, thank you very much-the kinematic equations had told him how far he would fall.

**noonetellpepper - awcoffeeno: **Yes, Barton Obvious. I am perfectly aware

The last comment was from Sam, the challenge clearly in his tone. _So someone wanted to have a little Dubsmash war, huh? Falcon boy can bring it if he thinks that he can top me. _

**flyingfalcon - noonetellpepper: **Challenge accepted, Stark. #dubsmashwar2k15

No sooner had the challenge been issued than another video popped up on Tony's Twitter feed, this time showing Sam flying through the air with what was clearly an improvised selfie stick and a GoPro.

"_I believe I can flyyy_

_I believe I can touch the skyy_

_All I wanted was a chicken wing_

_From McDonald's or Burger Kinng"_

The next part was sung totally acapella, which was kind of hard to hear since the wind was overpowering Sam's voice.

"_I BELIEVE I CAN SOAAAARRRRRRRRRR_

_MY MOTHER HIT ME WITH THE KITCHEN DOOR_

_I RAN HER OVER WITH A MINIVAN_

_SHE HIT ME WITH A METAL PAN"_

The video cut off then, Sam looking into the camera with a shit-eating grin on his face. _"Challenge issued to all Avengers and of SHIELD," _he said, giving it a mock salute. _"Bring on the Dubsmash war of 2015." _He thumped his chest. _"See if you can challenge the KING!"_

**noonetellpepper: **there is no WAY **flyingfalcon **is the king of dubsmash. if anything, it's obviously me

**cloudformations - flyingfalcon: **well, if there's a king, there HAS to be a queen. challenge accepted, Sam. better get my throne ready.

**RealSteveRogers - cloudformations - flyingfalcon:**Challenge accepted, Wilson. You're not reigning with MY girl. #mygirl #mygirl #talkingboutmygirl

**cloudformations - RealSteveRogers: **when we get back, steve, i stg we're going to talk about your taste in music.

**loveisforchildren - cloudformations - RealSteveRogers: **Please do. He started singing Ariana Grande last week. Clint nearly shot him with a tranquilizer arrow.

**awcoffeeno - loveisforchildren - cloudformations - RealSteveRogers: **you know what i'm sorry if i don't like ariana grande ok she licked that donut i was buying! #disgusting #gross #howdoesshehavefans

**cloudformations - awcoffeeno: **I feel you bro I feel you DC's singing ariana grande all over the base too #itsembarassing #iswearhowishemydad #likeadoptedbutwhatever #evenmaywantstoshoothim

**awcoffeeno - dontcallmeAC: **you gotta be kidding me. #just #no #whyphilwhy

Another video popped up just as Tony was touching down onto the landing pad, the suit being stored away piece by piece. He gave Pepper a kiss on the cheek in exchange for the icy glare she gave him, hurrying over to his tablet and pulling up his feed to see the latest video.

**awcoffeeno: **I may not be able to fly, but at least I can steer better than May. #shotsfired #dubsmashwar2k15

In it, Clint was sitting in the pilot's chair, steering the throttle with an enthusiasm that was only known to children. His feet were up on the dashboard, and he nearly fell out of his chair pretending to turn to the right.

"_We're soarin', flyin'_

_There's not a star in heaven that we can't reach_

_If we're tryin_

_Yeah we're breakin' free..."_

**ewcoffeeno - awcoffeeno: **If I remember correctly, Barton, I was the one who taught you to fly. I take offense to this.

**dontcallmeDC - ewcoffeeno - awcoffeeno: **I take whatever offense May does. Challenge accepted, Barton. The Bus formally volunteers for the war. #dubsmashwar2k15

**theBus: **Agents, take your targets. #dubsmashwar2k15 is now on. -Coulson

For a minute, the Internet seemed to break down as agents and Avengers alike bantered back and forth, cementing their battles. Hashtags and shots flew everywhere as each side alike insulted the other, the tension only growing.

**noonetellpepper: notajollygreengiant **and i formally challenge our sci kids, **werefitzsimmons **and we're gonna kick your asses #dubsmashwar2k15 #scisongsonly

**werefitzsimmons - noonetellpepper - notajollygreengiant: **We formally accept. And we'll provide the tissues when you lose. #dubsmashwar2k15 #cantbeatthisteamwork

**dontcallmeDC - awcoffeeno: **Barton, your ass is MINE. #dubsmashwar2k15 #dead

**cloudformations: RealSteveRogers **loser has to pay for the next time both teams go on an eating venture? #dubsmashwar2k15 #obviouslygoingtobeme

**RealSteveRogers - cloudformations: **Don't count your chickens before they've hatched, Skye. #dubsmashwar2k15

**justamerc: **I say we use this to determine the REAL sass master **yesiwashydragetoverit **I think **loveisforchildren **might be better...she did train you, bob... #dubsmashwar2k15

**yesiwashydragetoverit - loveisforchildren - justamerc: **Oh, HELL no. You're on, Morse. Loser has to clean Barton's nest. It's a war zone in there. #dubsmashwar2k15

**awcoffeeno - yesiwashydragetoverit - loveisforchildren - justamerc: **it's not THAT bad in there? #right #atleastidontthink

"It's a lot worse," Natasha muttered to herself as she tossed a stinkbomb into Clint's room. "Or, at least, it's going to be a lot worse in five days when the maggots start crawling into every nook and cranny."

* * *

"ALL RIGHT AVENGERS, UP AND AT 'EM!" It was six in the morning when Tony ran around ringing his gong, trying to get all of them up. Like rabbits emerging from their dens, each Avenger came out of their rooms, sleepily rubbing their eyes.

"It is six in the morning, Stark," Steve groaned. "I'm not even awake usually for another half hour. What occasion involves us getting up at such an ungodly hour of the morning?" To his credit, Steve's disgruntled tone didn't faze Tony in the least-in fact, it might have made him even more chipper.

"We've gotta make the first move on the Agents," he announced like a drill sergeant. "And this _does _mean that we're going to need a kickass song, some great choreography, and someone to film." He paused expectantly. "Does anyone want to volunteer to film?"

Bucky raised his hand grumpily. "Does it mean we get to go back to sleep?"

Tony sighed heavily. _You'd think that, for all of the shots they'd fired yesterday, they would've been better about this. _"Yes, Barnes. You get to go back to bed because we're not going to need you until we've hashed out choreography and decided places and lyrics to smash and the perfect caption and-"

"I'll do it."

"Excellent." Tony beamed at Bucky, who was looking pleased at the easy way out. "Go back to bed. We'll see you in a couple of hours." Everyone else was glaring at Bucky as he shuffled back to his room, the door slamming before Tony turned back to them. "Anyone else want to volunteer for a job?"

"Is there second cameraman?" Clint asked, looking absolutely haggard. "Or third? Hell, is there a cameraman place for everyone?" He seemed as if he was going to fall over any second from exhaustion. Which, given that he'd only had three hours of sleep and Tony was running on caffeine fumes, was pretty fair.

"Alright, alright, all of you, go back to bed," Tony muttered, setting the gong down on table. "Disgraceful, all of you. I'll see you at 0900 hours." He missed Natasha's mutter of 'that's still too goddamn soon' as he headed back to the lab, ready to pour himself another cup of coffee. _They were going to freaking win this thing. He was sure of it._

* * *

"No, no, no, no and no," were Natasha's first words as they all stumbled once more into the kitchen, Tony having been all but ready to ring the gong once more. "We are _not _having this conversation until I've had at least a cup of coffee in my system." There were various mumbles of agreement from the other Avengers, each of them jostling the other to try and get some coffee.

"Fine," Tony grumped, crossing his arms and settling at the island. He waited until all of them had consumed their various breakfasts and caffeine before speaking once more. "We need a good song," he burst out. "We gotta make a killer first move so that they'll concede defeat."

"I vote we don't dance to your theme song," Clint suggested to raised mugs of agreement. When Tony just glared at him, he retorted, "Oh, come on, Stark, like you weren't thinking that. You and I both knew it was coming."

Tony was about to open his mouth once more to retort when JARVIS _pinged_, alerting them to an incoming message. _"It seems that Agent's Coulson team has begun the war," _he said, pulling up Twitter on the projectable screen. _"There are several videos, each of them addressed to their rival of choosing."_

"Damn, they made the first move already?" Sam asked, stabbing into his bacon and eggs. "How the hell did they find the time to do that?" JARVIS had pulled up the group's first, knowing that they would want to make their own in retaliation.

**theBus: **The Avengers can't take the funk. Cause we got it allll uptown. #dubsmashwar2k15

"_Girls, it's your hallelujah (hoo)_

_Girls it's your hallelujah (hoo)"_

Fitz, Hunter and Mack were all leaning casually against a wall of the Bus, looking up interestedly and mouthing the words as the music began. At each 'hoo', Bobbi, Skye and Simmons would pop up, eyes wide and mouth open before disappearing again.

"_Cause uptown funk don't give it to ya_

_Cause uptown funk don't give it to ya"_

The girls suddenly popped back up on screen, backing up to the level of the wall as the men began synchronized gestures, pointing at the screen. All six of them began doing the same, splitting into two sides.

"_Saturday night and we in the spotlight_

_Don't believe me just watch"_

At that, Coulson popped up out of nowhere in a Captain America suit, doing an extremely out-of-style disco, while May was next to him, in a catsuit performing a poor attempt at the sprinkler. Each of the Avengers roared with laughter at that, Clint looking fit to fall out of his chair.

"You'd think, as the Cavalry, she'd be doing something related to an _animal,_" he choked out, already reaching for his phone to tweet something of the sort. "But no, I guess May decided 'let's impersonate a lawn fixture and see how that works'."

**awcofeeno - ewcoffeeno: **So, Cav, how's that sprinkler working out for you? Thought the gnome would've worked better, no? #sameface #sameposture #relations?

**RealSteveRogers - dontcallmeAC: **I'd like my suit back, Phil. I *knew* there was something missing from my closet yesterday.

**dontcallmeAC - RealSteveRogers: **Now, now, Steve, don't make me face off against you, too. I've got enough on my plate with Barton as is. #cheekybastard #insultingmay

"Tony? You might want to see this," came Bruce's high-pitched voice as he looked at his phone, his eyes wide. Tony rushed over to Bruce's side of the breakfast bar, jabbing his phone's screen to play a video.

"_There's hydrogen and helium then lithium beryllium_

_Boron carbon everywhere_

_Nitrogen all through the air"_

FitzSimmons was now in the lab, dressed in identical sparkling white lab coats and holding beakers with chemicals in them as they bobbed alternatingly to the song. At the last line, they poured their beakers together, causing a puff of glitter to go into the air.

**werefitzsimmons - noonetellpepper - notajollygreengiant: **We believe that the scientific bar has been set. Your move, Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark. #dubsmashwar2k15

"That's insulting, I have at least two , the little inquiring squirts," Tony muttered, not unkindly. "I'll make sure they know that the next time they come to visit. But for now, Brucie," he said, yanking poor Bruce off of the stool. The other scientist barely had time to grab his mug of tea before Tony was hauling him off to the lab, loudly voicing his opinion on science songs that were possible.

"_As a blonde _

_Gonna get whatever I want_

_I'll be ever so enticing_

_Cake with lots of icing _

_Never have to watch my weight_

_Yeah when I'm gone_

_I'm gonna come back as a blonde"_

**yesiwashydragetoverit - loveisforchildren: **Why blondes are better than redheads, part one. As a blonde, I ain't cleaning that pigsty. #dubsmashwars2k15

Bobbi had held up each of the items associated with each lyric, which included a scale and Natsaha's favorite red velvet cake. The cake was tossed over her shoulder, Bobbi tossing back her hair as she continued. When she finished, she mockingly blew Natasha a kiss before sauntering off.

"Oh, no she didn't," Natasha muttered grimly, slipping off of her stool to head off to her room. "That cake was just too far. Steve, you're coming with me," she called over her shoulder. Steve looked at her in surprise, in the middle of discussing with Bucky the best way to strike at Skye.

"And why should I do that?" he sassed back. "I am blonde, after all." Natasha shot him a venomous look. At first, he managed to resist, but quickly cracked when she didn't blink an eye. "Fine, Natasha. Coming." He followed her, Bucky shaking his head as they left.

"Good think Skye doesn't see how whipped he is, or we'd have a real problem on our hands."

"Barnes, you too."

He immediately complied.

* * *

_21 guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky_

Bucky and Natasha were standing back-to-back, each of them holding semi-automatic rifles and pretending to shoot them while they mouthed along to the words, the former dressed in army fatigues while the latter was in her own catsuit. This time, it was minus any sprinkler moves.

"And cut," Steve sighed, and Bucky and Natasha put their guns down. Bucky automatically reached to take off his combat boots, making Steve smile-he'd hated them during his time in the army, and the present wasn't any difference. "_Now _can I go film my own video?"

"You can film a video?" Natasha and Bucky asked in unison. Steve shot them the bird, chucking Natasha her phone. She caught it easily, Steve's scowl deepening when she showed no sign of injury at all.

**loveisforchildren - yesiwashydragetoverit: **You'd better go scrape up that cake, Blondie, before **brightmetalarm **and I come after you with these. #dubsmashwar2k15

Thirty seconds later, there was a Snapchat of Bobbi hurriedly scraping up a mush of red cake off of the Bus floor, panic on her face. Hunter's muffled snickers were clearly heard in the background, as he was the one filming. Natasha laughed as she watched it, screenshotting her face.

**justamerc - loveisforchildren: **that was bloody well the best thing I've seen in weeks. Cheers to you, I owe you a drink the next time you come around.

**yesiwashydragetoverit: loveisforchildren **don't encourage him, nat, please #wereatwarbutplease

**yesiwashydragetoverit: **I swear, this is how desperate I am. #dubsmashwar2k15

"_Give me one more chance_

_I swear I'll behave_

_Let me kiss your Doc Martens_

_I'll kiss your Doc Martens_

_Your every wish I will obey!"_

Bobbi's face showed up on the screen once more, pleading written into every ounce of her expression as she lip synced the words to the musical. Natasha snorted, watching it twice more before typing out her response:

**loveisforchildren - yesiwashydragetoverit: **I don't own Doc Martens, but I've got a pretty good set of Louboutins. You can kiss those.

"Steeeeeve," she whined to the super-soldier, who had just been beginning to sneak out of the room. "I need you to film again for me. This is the last time, I promise." Under her breath, she muttered, "today, that is."

"_Oh don't you dare look back_

_Just keep your eyes on me_

_I said you're holding back _

_She said shut up and dance with me"_

Bucky and Natasha launched into a celebratory dance, complete with several fist pumps and hip chucks, settling for a posed peace sign with their backs against each other in true gangster fashion. Behind the camera, Steve rolled his eyes so hard he feared they would go into another dimension. "Was that really necessary?" he asked as Natasha snatched her phone back, not wanting to risk another chucking.

"Of course it was," she answered calmly, already halfway to posting the video on Twitter.

**loveisforchildren: **Guess **yesiwashydragetoverit **already gave up. I am officially the sassmaster of SHIELD. #dubsmashwar2k15

Bobbi was quick to reply with a video of her own, the indignation lacing her tone.

**yesiwashydragetoverit - loveisforchildren: **This war is over when you get together with Hunter, Romanoff. And that's going to be over my fucking dead body. #dubsmashwar2k15

She and Skye had adopted Natasha and Bucky's back-to-back pose, taking their choreography straight from _Camp Rock 2_. They hip-popped and jumped in unison, Bobbi taking great pains to avoid hitting the ceiling.

"_Show me, show me, show me, show me, show what you got_

_Come on, come on, come on, come on, ready or not_

_La-la-la-la-la, let me see how you rock_

_It's on, it's on, it's on"_

"_It's on!" _Bobbi and Skye shouted as an ending, getting up close and personal with the camera, so much that whoever was filming (Natasha was betting poor Hunter was on camera duty) moved back a little, exclaiming in surprise.

**yesiwashydragetoverit - loveisforchildren: **It is officially on. #dubsmashwar2k15

* * *

"I can't find anything even _remotely _close to the Periodic Table of Elements," Bruce complained, his head smacking the tabletop. "Face it, Tony. We let FitzSimmons make the first move, and now we're doomed. It happens in every symbiotic relationship ever." Tony sent Bruce a steely look, reminding him why he had teamed up with the billionaire in the first place.

"_We will not back down, Brucie," _he hissed, his eyes flashing. "I refuse to lose to the little runts. When I was their age, I'd already gotten three . A dubsmash war shouldn't be that hard." He let out a cry of joy as he found the perfect video on YouTube, pulling it up so that Bruce could see.

**noonetellpepper - werefitzsimmons: **at least we nvr go out of style. nerds. #dubsmashwar2k15

**notajollygreengiant - werefitzsimmons: **I'm sorry about this, I really am. Tony made me do it. #dubsmashwar2k15

"_Evolution made your heart, brain, spinal cord_

_And also your eyes_

_Medicines made the vaccines, technologies_

_That keep you alive_

_Every time that you eat, read, text, or take a selfie and smile_

_No, science ain't out of style_

_Science never goes out of style"_

Bruce and Tony had donned an Iron Man suit each (Bruce wasn't about to ask just how Tony had made him an Iron Man suit, especially when there would _never _be an instant in which he'd need it), and were doing the robot as the song played, Tony actually going so far as to grab a beaker of water, chug it down, and pour the rest into a beaker Bruce was holding, the entire thing overflowing and spilling onto the floor.

**werefitzsimmons - noonetellpepper: **Why, thank you for such a dashing compliment, Mr. Stark. It really means a lot coming from someone of your caliber. #nerdsforever

**werefitzsimmons - notajollygreengiant: **We understand, Dr. Banner. There are no hard feelings. Perhaps you'd like to come around for a meal sometime?

"Traitor," Tony muttered to Bruce, who was grinning sheepishly. "Just like the youngest Barton son." Bruce spread his hands in a goodwill gesture, his eyebrows raised. "Don't deny that you like them better than me, Brucie. I know you have a soft spot for Simmons."

"I remain a neutral party in this war," Bruce protested. "And, plus, have you ever tasted Fitz's cooking?" He made a sound of contentment. "Cornish pastries, mash and a nice side of vegetables. Best thing I've ever tasted."

Tony scoffed. "Now I know you're just lying."

* * *

"AC, I need the suit you stole from Steve," Skye said without preamble as she burst into Coulson's office, the director looking up in surprise as she planted herself in front of his desk. "And yes, I know you stole it from the Tower when we left a couple of days ago, so don't even try to deny it." Coulson opened his mouth, to possibly say something, but closed it at Skye's second statement.

"Fine," he relented, but held up a finger as Skye went dashing out of the room. "But make sure you clean it after you wash it. That means run it through the washer, Skye, not douse it with a random bowl of water you found in kitchen. And tumble dry it or iron it. I am _not _giving Steve Rogers back his spare suit with wrinkles in it."

Skye rolled her eyes as she dashed out of the room, grabbing the suit from the closet where she knew Coulson kept all of his important clothes. Suit in hand, she made a dash for the bathroom, only to be stopped by May, who had a basket of toiletries in her hand. May looked from Skye to the suit in her hand back to Skye again before sighing and moving into the bathroom, Skye following her.

_Wow, this suit is definitely way too big for me, _she decided as she pulled up the leg of the suit for about the fiftieth time, nearly tripping over it in the process. _Oh, well. Steve did always say he wanted to see me in something of his. I'm just not sure this is what he had in mind. _She finally got the leg on, hopping to secure the other foot in place. With that, the rest of the suit was zipped up, and Skye was glad that at least the midsection fit.

"Bobbi Morse," she yelled, sticking her head out the door. "Calling Barbara Bobbi Morse." As an afterthought, she tacked on, "Or is it Hunter now? I can never keep track. For goodness' sakes, Bobbi, I hope you're single, I'm not supposed to win the bet for another three days-"

"One more word about my love life again, Skye, and I swear the entire base will find out about that time you had sex in the supply closet with Steve." Bobbi's hair was _this _close to crackling very much like Hermione Granger's, and it took all Skye had not to burst into laughter. "What the hell do you want?"

"How'd you get your hair like that?" she managed before collapsing into a fit of giggles, trying to catch her breath as Bobbi crossed her arms at her. "No, seriously, I need you to film for me," she gasped out as her fit subsided, calming back down. "Steve's most definitely too scared to make the first move."

"And now that you've so eloquently laughed at me," Bobbi answered, her growl a half snarl, "what incentive should I have to film you?" Skye rolled her eyes: she'd seen this coming. Good thing she'd prepared well for it.

"You have to comply to HYDRA, of course," she deadpanned, pulling up her sleeves once more to hand Bobbi her phone. "And I also took the liberty of digging into Romanoff's past. Turns out she had a brief stint where she went blonde and recorded a music video." Bobbi watched the video with wide eyes, her mouth dropping open as she heard the song. "I'll do the song with you if you film me."

She could see Bobbi weighing the advantages in her head. Finally, the blonde nodded. "Fine. Let's get to it." Skye scrambled off of the bed, grabbing the American flag she'd procured from the foot of the bed, lifting it up in the air. "What are you going to do, mouth the Star Spangled Banner?"

"Something like that," Skye answered. "It's 'Made In America' by Cimorelli," she answered as Bobbi raised the phone, ready to film. "Got a great rap part to it."

**cloudformations - RealSteveRogers: **I promise we'll get your suit back, babe. By the way, Bobbi is filming. She knows about THAT TIME. #dubsmashwar2k15

"_I pledge allegiance to the home of the brave_

_Blue jeans, ball caps and football games_

_Fireworks outside on the Fourth of July_

_Summer night barbecue, bring the apple pie!"_

The flag was jabbed towards the camera on the words 'apple pie', and Skye flashed a grin at the camera. "You'd better make good on that promise for an apple pie, babe," she said. "Otherwise I'll have to come for the entire Tower looking for pie."

"And cut," Bobbi said, stopping the film. She turned her back while Skye shimmied out of the suit and back into her normal clothes, then fished out her own phone, scrolling for the song so that she could use it. "It's called 'Candy', right? Damn hard to find."

"Of course it is," Skye answered breezily, attempting to look over Bobbi's shoulder. After hopping a few times, she gave up. "Romanoff wouldn't want anyone getting ahold of that awful time she had to go blonde. She'd never live it down." She looked the tall agent up and down, frowning at her stark choice in clothes. "Are you really going to do this in your _Star Wars _T-shirt?" she asked. "Because no one's going to take you seriously if you do."

"Really?" Bobbi asked, snorting at the suggestion. "You really think I'd go half-assed on retaliation?" She rolled her hazel eyes. "I've got something better in the stockroom. Come on," she said to Skye, who grabbed her phone and followed her across the hall.

"_This," _she said, pulling out a psychedelic candy cane and matching pantsuit, "is what Nat had to wear on that op." When Skye gave her a look, she explained, "May was on that op. Don't ask her about it, she won't tell you. I never connected the dots until now. Luckily," she grunted as she hauled the entire thing out of the closet, "May was wearing stilts when she had to go undercover, so if I'm correct, it should...fit."

"Killin' it, Morse," Skye gave her the thumbs up as Bobbi jumped into the pantsuit, transforming instantly back into the seventies with one fluid movement. "Seventies called. They want their suit back." Bobbi just flipped her the bird and handed her the phone. "Wait, how am I supposed to do it with you if a), you're so tall, and b), I'm filming?"

"Yeah, that's a curveball," Bobbi muttered, then cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "HUNTER!" They could hear the sounds of the Englishman tripping down the hallway in his haste to get to the room, muttering curses every other second. "You're filming," she said by way of answer when he finally poked his head into the room, a question on his face. Sighing, he took Bobbi's phone, moving back several paces to catch the both of them in the frame.

**yesiwashydragetoverit - loveisforchildren: **never thought you'd be this sickly sweet, Romanoff. or blonde. #dubsmashwar2k15

_"I don't know bout no fast cars_

_Only sweet things and candy bars _

_You make my mouth water, yum yum pop_

_Sugar them lips, I can't be stopped_

_Unwrap the wrapper, what will I find _

_Handsome young boy blowin' my mind_

_Sugar sugar sugar pour it all over_

_Gooey like a gumdrop drippin it's sweet"_

Bobbi had taken out a couple of giant lollipops and had handed one to Skye, both of them using them to sing as Bobbi posed with the candy, Skye singing her backup as she did a pass-by by the camera. At the end, both of them unwrapped the candies and bit them, Skye swallowing hers whole.

"Ugh," she said after Hunter had finished filming, claiming he needed to go 'mind bleach the thought of that pantsuit out of my head, bloody hell'. "That was one disgusting piece of candy. Where the hell did you get it?"

"Stole it out of the lab," Bobbi answered, spitting out her own piece of candy. "Although, knowing FitzSimmons, that probably wasn't a very good idea..." Skye barely heard the rest of the sentence as her stomach started to roil, sprinting towards the bathroom and bursting in. She barely heard May's cries of outrage as she fell to her knees next to the toilet, upheaving her entire lunch.

**cloudformations - werefitzsimmons: **what the hell was that candy you had in the lab? #ithinkidied #oratleasthadfoodpoisioning

"So _that's _where the candy went," came Simmons' wondrous voice, and Skye looked up to see the scientist standing over her, a cup of water and hot pack in her arms. "Fitz and I had wondered where it'd gotten to."

"What the hell was _that_?" Skye asked, pocketing her phone as another wave of nausea swept over her, hanging her head over the toilet just in case. Ignoring May's mutters about lack of personal space, Simmons gently held her hair back, grabbing a spare basin and holding to Skye's chin as she picked up the hacker, leading her to her room. Once settled into bed, Simmons handed her the water and cold pack.

"You're going to need this, I'm afraid," she explained apologetically. "Fitz and I designed the candy some time ago to induce severe nausea that mimicked food poisoning. We'd gotten the design of the candy to be appetizing, but the taste was so awful we had to scrap the project." As Skye nodded, drinking the water, she continued, "You're going to be on bed rest for the next few days. No videos for you."

Skye's look of horror was nothing compared to the sound of Bobbi lurching down the hallway towards the bathroom, apparently having also swallowed the candy. Simmons looked nervous. "Oh, dear. That'll be two agents we have on bed rest. This isn't going to look good to Director Coulson."

* * *

**lovesisforchildren - ewcoffeeno: **I thought we agreed to burn those suits.

**ewcoffeeno - loveisforchildren: **Did we? I thought we just agreed to never speak of the incident again. Either way, I've got Skye *and* Morse in the med bay. They had some weird +

**ewcoffeeno - loveisforchildren: **candy of FitzSimmons' and got sick. I'm two agents down.

**dontcallmeAC - ewcoffeeno - loveisforchildren: **What do you mean, 'Skye and Morse are in the med bay'? I need them in Cancun in three hours!

**cloudformations - dontcallmeAC - ewcoffeeno - loveisforchildren: **blame **yesiwashydragetoverit **it was her fault she stole the candy out of fitzsimmons lab #yeahbobbi #see #the #next #time #I #help #you

**yesiwashydragetoverit - cloudformations - dontcallmeAC - ewcoffeeno: **What the hell was FitzSimmons doing leaving the candy out in the first place? #likeno #howiwasisupposedtoknow

**theBus: **Recently, it's come to light that a certain substance has temporarily taken out two agents. For that, we apologize. Could we possibly borrow a couple of agents? **mhill **-FitzSimmons

**mhill - theBus: **What have you two done this time? I swear, if you've turned Morse into a frog again...

**yesiwashydragetoverit - mhill - theBus: **Still human, thank goodness. But Skye and I are bedridden for 48 hours. Simmons' orders. #reallytheirfault #weatetheircandy

**loveisforchildren - yesiwashydragetoverit - mhill - theBus: **I'd almost say that was a...*blonde* move of you, Morse.

**yesiwashydragetoverit - loveisforchildren - mhill - theBus: **Screw you, Romanoff.

**dontcallmeAC - yesiwashydragetoverit - cloudformations: **Who the hell am I supposed to send in your place?

**mhill - dontcallmeAC: **I'll get Barton and Romanoff on it. What do they need to do?

**dontcallmeAC - mhill - awcoffeeno - loveisforchildren: **I'll be over in an hour to explain. Get ready.

**RealSteveRogers - dontcallmeAC: **You think you could get my suit while you're at it?

"Natashaaaaa..." Steve's pained whine could be heard all the way down the hallway. She rolled her eyes as she zipped her duffel bag shut, sauntering down to his room, only to find Steve facedown on the bed. "I've been defeated by my girlfriend. You're next for deciding food. Could you do me a favor and pick somewhere that isn't expensive?"

"Stop whining, Rogers. You sound like Clint." She smacked him upside the head and picked up his phone, pulling up YouTube and showing him the screen. His blue eyes widened comically as he picked up the phone, studying the video. When it was over, he looked at her.

"You have to retaliate with me."

"Sure," Natasha shrugged. "I need to get back at her for giving Morse 'Candy', anyways." She rushed out of the room, presumably to find a pair of black headbands. When she returned, she was holding two bands, one of which was handed to Steve. He snapped it on his head, holding his phone out in selfie mode for the two of them to film.

**RealSteveRogers - cloudformations: **Uh-oh, looks like the mic's been dropped. #dubsmashwar2k15

_"Uh oh_

_I can hear my heart go_

_Racing out of control_

_It's so crazy_

_Boy you really got me _

_Uh-oh_

_I don't think that you know _

_When you're standing this close_

_Got me dizzy_

_Fallin' for you baby, uh-oh"_

Steve and Natasha stared intently into the camera as it filmed, one of them occasionally bobbing their head to the beat. When it was over, Natasha quickly stripped the band off of her head and ran out of the room, grabbing her duffel bag along the way. "Gotta go. Coulson needs me in Cancun. Make sure Stark doesn't blow anything up while we're gone."

"No guarantees," he mumbled as there was a faint explosion from a few floors below.

**tonyisnowdead - noonetellpepper: **Tony, what did you do this time?

**noonetellpepper - tonyisnowdead: **im trying 2 recreate fitzsimmons candy pep just in case we want it #genius #howdidwenotthinkoftht

**werefitzsimmons - noonepepper - tonyisnowdead: **Aha! So you bow down to our superior scientific intellect, Mr. Stark. #yesssssssss We'll just be preparing dinner for Dr. Banner.

**noontellpepper - werefitzsimmons - notajollygreengiant: **brucie, where R u? #youdbetternotbeonthewaytothebus #isweartoodin

**notajollygreengiant - noonetellpepper - werefitzsimmons: **He promised me mash! You know how much I love Fitz's mash! Plus, they need me to monitor Morse and Skye.

Bruce crossed his fingers as FitzSimmons giggled, looking over his shoulder. "Well, I hope he bought _that _excuse." He sent Fitz a look over his glasses. "You'd better have been serious about that mash, Dr. Fitz."

Fitz sobered up. "Of course, sir. Of course." He scurried off to the kitchen, Simmons leading Bruce over to a lab bench, presenting him their progress on the candy. Bruce hummed to himself as he looked it over, Simmons automatically providing him with a pen and notebook when his fingers started twitching.

**noonetellpepper - notajollygreengiant - werefitzsimmons: **fine now tht my sci bro has betrayed me, i admit they win #ugh #fitzsimmonsissuperior #dubsmashwar2k15

**theBus: **FitzSimmons just made Science!Bros their bitch. ;) -Skye

* * *

"Can we let her out of bed yet?" Coulson complained as he passed Simmons down the hallway, a large pitcher of lemonade in his hands. Ever since being put on bed rest, Skye had been insufferable, taking it upon herself to make everyone on the Bus her servant. Unfortunately, it had been the director's turn today, and she was being more outrageous than ever. "I swear, any more drinks and I'll ICER her."

"She seems to have recovered satisfactorily," Simmons noted, wincing as she heard Skye singing loudly and off-key from her room. "I think it's safe to let her off of bed rest." Apparently, one of the perks that had come with Skye's new powers was super hearing, for Skye was out of bed and rushing down the hallway before Coulson could even reply to Simmons' comment.

"WOOOHOOOO!"

"And Bobbi?" Coulson managed, taking a small sip of the lemonade. Skye wasn't drinking it-he might as well get to. "How's she doing?" At that, Simmons grimaced, a small flash of worry gracing her face.

"She's not doing as well as I'd hoped," she answered honestly. "It might be something than more than what the candy's done-if it had just been the candy, she would have been fine by now, but the nausea's still persisting and she's having strange cravings and-_oh!_" Without a word, she sprinted off, yelling Bruce's name as she went. Coulson shook his head and continued on, still sipping from the lemonade.

**cloudformations: **finally off of bed rest! holla! now I can get back at romanoff and rogers for finding that damn song, it's not my fault +

**cloudformations: **that AC sent me undercover that one time and it went further than imagined! how did I know I was going to have to play a +

**cloudformations: **chinese pop star? and one named chloe wang at that? **RealSteveRogers **this is not the end #iswear #iWILLrock you

"Bobbi, I've figured it out," Simmons said as she dashed into the room, the blonde in the middle of miserably staring into a metal basin for the fifth time that morning. "It's not the candy. I have a suspicion, but I'll have to draw your blood just to make sure." She gave Bobbi an apologetic look. "I know you hate needles."

Bobbi sighed despondently. "You might as well get it over with," she answered, holding out her arm. "I've got nothing to lose, anyways." Simmons quickly set up the draw, getting out a syringeful in a matter of minutes.

"Tut, tut, it's not like you're going to die-I'm fairly sure Fitz and I didn't design it to be _lethal_, plus, Skye's out of bed. You shouldn't be that far behind." She tapped the syringe, discarding the needle. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes, alright?"

**werefitzsimmon - yesiwashydragetoverit - justamerc: **I may need both of you in the room to address this situation. -Simmons

"I'm dying, aren't I?" Bobbi asked miserably as Simmons arrived in the room once more, wheeling a large cart. Hunter was beside her, looking just as scared as she was. "And that's the cart you're going to need to wheel my body out of here. I'm never going to forgive you for this, Jemma. And then I'm _so _haunting your spirit in the afterlife."

Simmons rolled her eyes. "I told you, Bobbi, for the last time, you're not dying. The candy's not lethal. I'm wondering if you took the lollipop with the depressant, the way you're acting. We designed it so that the consumer would spill their secrets much more quickly."

"Then what is it?" Hunter demanded, gripping Bobbi's hand. She winced, and he let go. "Sorry, love."

"Bobbi, you're pregnant. About eight weeks in."

A shocked silence filled the room, and Simmons fidgeted, not wanting to be caught in the awkward conversation that was sure to follow the bombshell. She slowly began to edge out of the room, not wanting to be a witness to Hunter's murder.

"I'm pregnant?" It was Bobbi who finally spoke, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm pregnant." She looked over at Hunter. "We're going to have a baby."

"Coulson is going to kill me," he croaked, and the three of them burst into laughter, the tension broken. "I took out one of his best agents, and now she's going to have a baby." Simmons busied herself with the cart behind her, pulling the dropcloth off of it while Bobbi and Hunter digested that fact, the latter murmuring praises against Bobbi's stomach.

"Would you like to see the fetus?" she asked, chuckling a little bit when their faces lit up, wheeling the car a little closer to them. "Alright, I'm going to have to put this on your stomach-it's going to be cold." Bobbi jumped a little bit as the gel was slathered onto her stomach, gasping softly when the screen in front of them lit up. "I'm going to be headed out. Let me know when you're ready."

**theBus: **We're happy to announce a new arrival to our family-coming soon in seven months! -Lance and Bobbi

**cloudformations - justamerc - yesiwashydragetoverit: **SCREAMS

**dontcallmeAC - justamerc - yesiwashydragetoverit: **Really, Hunter? Couldn't you have at least waited until I had more agents?

**ewcoffeeno - justamerc - yesiwashydragetoverit: **I refuse to change any diapers.

**werefitzsimmons - justamerc - yesiwashydragetoverit: **Finally, a child to experiment on-I mean, play and cherish! Hehe...? -Fitz

"FITZ!"

**loveisforchildren - justamerc - yesiwashydragetoverit: **Congrats, you two. I hope it's not blonde like Morse.

**yesiwashydragetoverit - justamerc - loveisforchildren: **You lose godmother privileges, Romanoff. **ewcoffeeno **All you, May.

**ewcoffeeno - justamerc - loveisforchildren - yesiwashydragetoverit: **Good. Romanoff probably would've terrorized them anyways.

**justamerc: **To celebrate my lack of a death...

_"You're havin' my baby_

_What a lovely way of sayin' you're thinkin' of me_

_I can see it_

_Face is glowin'_

_I can see it in your eyes_

_I'm happy you know it_

_That you're havin' my baby_

_You're the woman I love and I love what it's doin' to ya"_

Hunter was dramatically serenading Bobbi on one knee, his arms out wide as he mouthed the words. Bobbi had a look of exasperation on her face, but the flushed glow was hard to miss all the same. At the end of the song, Skye quickly turned the camera to herself, giving a thumbs up.

* * *

"I vote we drop by the Bus team and offer our congratulations," Steve said one morning at breakfast, breaking the silence among them. Everyone looked at him with mild curiosity as he continued. "It's not every day SHIELD gets a baby. Especially of two specialists." When they continued to look at him, he admitted, "Okay..and maybe I'll get to see Skye."

"Told you," Bucky commented from the other end of the table, not even looking up from his paper. "He's whipped as all-get-out." Natasha snorted in agreement, turning the pages of her newspaper. Stark may have made fun of her for it, but she liked the paper. Plus, the sudoku was always fun.

"I think it would be fun," she said, receiving a thankful look from Steve when everyone looked her way. "Plus, we can all hash out our wars a lot more quickly." She nodded at Clint, who was suddenly content to loudly eat his cereal. "Goodness knows Coulson's steps away from winning just because Barton hasn't made a move."

"You have not yet retaliated, Friend Barton?" Thor asked, slopping some coffee down his front. Bucky facepalmed-it was his turn to do laundry and that was going to be a _bitch _to get out. "Why, I must help you!" He hopped off of his stool, easily picking up Clint and carrying him to the elevator.

"If you don't see me in an hour, offer my congratulations to Bobbi and Lance, and make sure you bury me in my nest!"

**awcoffeeno: kingofasgard **made me do it. I couldn't say no. #dubsmashwar2k15

Thor and Clint seemed to be doing the _Just Dance Kids _routine to _The Hamster Dance Song_, Thor looking especially awkward as he hopped back and forth. Utter humiliation was written onto Clint's face as he halfheartedly went through the movements, looking like he was going to cry.

**dontcallmeAC - awcoffeeno: **I think it's safe to say that May and I have won.

**ewcoffeeno - dontcallmeAC - awcoffeeno: **So. Hamstereye, huh?

* * *

"SURPRISE!" Tony exclaimed as the Avengers landed on top of the Bus, May very nearly avoiding doing a barrel roll to throw them off. "Oh, come on, May," he said as they hopped into the craft. "You really think we wouldn't have found a way to hang on while you did that barrel roll?"

"The hell are you doing here, Stark?"

"We came to offer our congratulations," Clint explained. "We have to pick up Banner _some _time. Can't let him have too much fun with FitzSimmons." He looked over at an empty space, where Steve had presumably been. "Plus, Steve wanted some off time with his girlfriend."

"NO MORE SUPPLY CLOSETS!" Bobbi and Hunter hollered. There was a distinct silence, followed by the groans of Steve and Skye.

"Come on, Bobbi! You're no fun! Be the cool mom for once...and maybe for the rest of your unborn child's life!"

"I'm the mom, and you know it," May threatened on a holler. "And I say no more supply closets."

Skye could be heard sighing. "Yes, ma'am...I mean, _mom_."

"Well, I'm here to concede," Natasha said, bowing her head gracefully. "Bragging of a win just doesn't seem right when I pretty much landed you in the med wing. Truce?" she asked of Bobbi, holding out her hand. Bobbi took it cautiously.

"What's the catch, Romanoff?" Natasha rolled her eyes.

"There is none. Just take the deal before I change my mind, Morse. The baby's making me soft."

"You want your godmother privileges back, don't you?" Hunter demanded. Natasha sighed petulantly and nodded. "Of course you do," he snickered, smirking when she pouted. "You've been Bob's best friend since you two did training together. We'd love to give it back to you," he said, looking at Bobbi as she nodded. She let out a sound of surprise when Natasha went in for a bone-crushing hug, her arms eventually wrapping around the spy.

"We're all cool, Nat. We're all cool."

"I say we call all truces," Clint announced. "Our powers are too evenly matched anyways."

"You just can't take the heat," Coulson ribbed, exchanging a high-five with May when Clint turned an ugly shade of maroon. "Hawkeye is no match for Team Philinda." He held out his hand. "I'll take that limited edition Captain America card." Clint sighed and slapped it into his hand, plastic sleeve and all.

"We never did bring the funk to the heads of SHIELD," Sam noted casually, raising an eyebrow when everyone turned his way. "And there _was _that time Hill had to go undercover..."

* * *

**theBus - mhill: **You still sparkle, Hill? #dubsmashwar2k15

_"Everybody come and play_

_Throw every last care away_

_Let's go to the mall, today_

_Lets go to the mall everybody!"_

Sam, Clint, Bucky and Steve sauntered across the camera's line of vision with shopping bags and pink coats, while May, Natasha and Skye stood up from the couch, each of them holding pom-poms. Lastly, FitzSimmons leapt up from the behind the couch, throwing a handful of silver glitter each into the air.

"And that's a wrap, folks," Bobbi laughed, each of them scrambling around the holotable to watch with bated breath as the video posted, waiting for Hill's reaction.

**mofoingfury - theBus: **You motherfuckers.

* * *

**Here are your songs, mostly in order: **

**Tony's flying- "Defying Gravity" from _Wicked_**

**Sam- "I Believe I Can Fly" (I made that up from my childhood, though)**

**Clint- "Breaking Free" from _High School Musical_**

**Bus team- "Uptown Funk" by Bruno Mars**

**FitzSimmons- "Periodic Table of Elements" by ASAP Science**

**Bobbi- "As a Blonde" by Selena Gomez**

**Natasha- "21 Guns" by Green Day**

**Bobbi's begging- "Happy New Year" from _RENT_**

**Bucky and Natasha celebrating- "Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon**

**Bobbi and Skye, part 1- "It's On" from _Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam_**

**Bruce and Tony- "Science Style" from ASAP Science**

**Skye- "Made In America" by Cimorelli (IF YOU LOVE THEM, SHOUTOUT TO YOU!)**

**Bobbi and Skye, part 2- "Candy" by the Singles (aka the one song Scarlett Johansson did with her band, aka blonde Natasha.)**

**Steve- "Uh Oh" by Chloe Wang (points to you if you know who that _really _is as well as the connection)**

**Hunter- "You're Having My Baby" by Paul Anka**

**Bus team, part 2- "Let's Go To the Mall" by Robin Sparkles**

**Review? Please? Best one gets FitzSimmons' nausea candy to use on someone! :D**


	45. BONUS: Car Troubles

**Oops. It's late. But I hope whoever reads this likes this!**

**Shoutout to FlepSuperPaperMario, A Study In Blogging, and SaphiralovesTolkien for following! I can't give out review prizes because this computer's dying. **

* * *

"Is this your car?"

_Look apologetic, Lance, look apologetic,_ he scolded himself as he stepped around his wreck of a car. The front was completely smashed in, the bright red hood of his Toyota crumpled up at an odd angle. Smoke billowed from an unknown source, but he wasn't too concerned about that-it was most likely steam. _Bloody hell. The headlights are smashed. I'm going to have to pay a pretty penny for those._

"Sorry," he called out to the other driver, wincing at his prominent English accent. "Still not used to driving on the right side of the road. Hell of a change, it is." As he rounded the corner, he could see that the owner of the had sustained relatively little damage, her navy blue Ford truck sporting just the tiniest dent in the front bumper. "And it looks like you came out alright anyways, didn't you?"

She was tall, blonde, and absolutely breathtaking, he decided as the truck's occupant came into full view. Her legs crossed as she leaned against the hood of her car, Lance had a hard time believing _she_ was the true owner of such a truck. She looked like she was dressed for work: sheer black stockings, a black pencil skirt hitting just above the knee, and a gray blouse paired with a navy blazer.

The whole thing would've worked if she hadn't been wearing a pair of bright pink Crocs.

"English, huh?" she snorted as Lance's mouth dropped open, presumably at the car. She got it often. Just not from noticeably cute English men she met driving on the wrong side of the road. "And still driving on the wrong side of the road." When the other man still didn't utter a word, she snapped her fingers at him in impatience. "Hello? I'm in _front_ of the car."

"Sorry, love," he blurted out automatically, reminding himself for the millionth time that *_he was in the States now, goddammit,_ and that there were more polite ways to address a woman. Especially one this beautiful. "I mean, ma'am," He grinned at her apologetically. "Force of habit. Mate of mine's been telling me to kick it for days now."

She looked understandably amused. "I'd say you should probably kick the driving habit first, huh?" She held out a hand for him to shake. Lance took it, noting that she had a lawyer's handshake-he'd seen enough of them to know how they shook. "Bobbi Morse." Even her _name_ was symmetrical, he mused.

"Lance Hunter." He paused, wanting to prolong the conversation but not knowing exactly how to. "I don't suppose you could tell me how this works?" Bobbi laughed then, the sound flowing respondently out of her mouth. "Excuse me, miss 'born-and-raised-American'," he scolded lightly, slightly affronted. "It is _not_ my fault we Brits use a different system than you Yanks. Bloody well easier, too," he muttered, as Bobbi was still laughing. "We'd be done by now over in England."

"It's not that bad, Lance," she answered, raising a blonde eyebrow at his proclamation. "We trade insurance, call the companies, and we're done. If you'd been a jerk, I would've probably taken you to court." He watched as she crossed over to the driver's side door, opening it and reaching for a pad of paper and pens. She handed one of each to him. "You've got an insurance number, yeah? Name, number, and we'll be on our way."

"Good to meet you," Lance said in way of parting as they exchanged insurance info, on his way back to his car. Oh, wait...that's right, he couldn't get anywhere with _his_ wreck of a car. He sighed, fishing for his phone. There really was no other option but to call his roommate Leo. Bugger would probably laugh his arse off when he heard Lance had wrecked his car driving on the wrong side of the road, but it beat sitting there waiting for AAA.

Bobbi paused as she got into her truck, seeing Lance pull out his phone to call someone. _Should she offer him a lift...?_ In the end, her conscience (or at least, that's what she told herself; there was no denying attraction played a small part), won out, and as she started her engine, she leaned out her window. "Where you heading?"

"Inhuman Industries," he answered. At her surprised look, he explained, "I'm just a salesperson. I have no idea what actually goes on in the labs, and trust me, if I did, I'd tell you." She accepted that answer with a nod, and the two of them fell into silence as Bobbi continued along the highway, Lance pulling out his phone to call his insurance company. "Yeah, car's a bloody wreck...on the right side of the 95...alright, I was driving on the wrong side of the road, but I'm going to get used to it, alright? Thank you." He hung up with a sigh. "_Insurance companies._"

Bobbi stifled a smile. If only he knew the type of people _she_ worked with all day...

* * *

"Is this your car?"

Bobbi's eyes widened as she heard a voice outside of her office window. Not daring to hope, she looked slowly out the window, drawing in a sharp intake of breath when she saw him dressed impeccably in a silk black suit, coattails and all. And _damn_, if Lance Hunter didn't look good arguing in that suit.

"Look, mate, I don't even work here," Lance was arguing with another man in the lot, his expression heated as he gestured with his hands. "All I wanted was a parking space. _Sorry_ if it happened to be your bloody 'preferred parking space'." The last three words were made with air quotes, and Bobbi fought off the urge to snicker-she did, after all, have to remain professional. "Just let me get out of the damn space, and it'll be all yours." She could hear him rolling his eyes as the car revved, and a small part of her brain wondered what he was doing here. She hadn't told him where she worked last week when she'd driven him, had she? Confused, Bobbi racked her brain, jumping about a foot in the air when her secretary Jemma buzzed her.

"Miss Morse, you have a visitor from Inhuman Industries," Bobbi raised an eyebrow to herself-_surely_ that couldn't be Lance-and straightened her charcoal gray pencil skirt, standing up as the door opened. "Hi, I'm Barbara Morse, chief lawyer to Coulson and Co, how may I help you-_Lance_?" He looked just as surprised to see her, actually spluttering for a bit before regaining his composure. "What are you doing here?"

"Bloody hell," Lance muttered to himself, tugging at the coattails of his suit. "I should've known-" He exhaled, wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead. (She'd be lying if she said she didn't find the tiniest bit cute.) "-when they told me _Barbara_, should've connected the damn dots..." He sighed finally, giving Bobbi a weak smile. "Well. How are you today, Bobbi?" She didn't miss the briefcase in his hand, assuming that this was about the upcoming partnership that was about to occur between Coulson and Inhuman.

"I take it you're here to try and sell me on the partnership?" she asked, getting her confirmation when Lance sighed, plopping the briefcase down on the floor. "Have a seat. At least we won't have to go through all of the awkward introductions now, will we?"

"I'm not sure it got any more awkward than me front-ending your truck," he laughed, settling into a seat in front of her desk. "Which, by the way, I haven't done to anyone else since," He reached for the briefcase, settling in his lap as Bobbi sat back in her chair, her hands primly folded as if waiting for an answer. "Let's talk business, shall we?" The lid of the case fell open to reveal a small, dark vial, and judging by the look on Lance's face, he hadn't known what was in it any more than she had. He was once again derailed, setting the open case on Bobbi's desk so that both of them could have a good look at it. "What _is_ that?"

"I take that it's something that requires our legal services," Bobbi answered smoothly. "And apparently the best of the best at that." When Lance gave her a look, she responded with, "Master's from Columbia. Youngest person to pass the bar in twenty years. Even have a PhD in biochemistry." There was a cheeky smirk. "So yes, this does seem quite dire."

"Top honors from Oxford, sweetheart. Business," he retorted, smirking back at her. "Obviously, you're looking at the best of the best, here." The two of them stared at each other, the tension in the air crackling. Neither of them knew what this really was-was it a rivalry? Was it harmless flirting? Was it something more?

Well, whatever it was, Bobbi decided she wouldn't look into it too much. They _were_ about to be business partners, after all. She had no time to let her personal life into the picture, attractiveness be damned. "So what's the case here?" Lance sighed, the tension broken as he fished out a sheaf of papers in a manila folder.

"Inhuman Industries recently caused a scare with _this_ thing here," he explained, tapping the small vial full of dark liquid. "I don't know what it's called exactly, but we recently sold it to a very powerful family, the Johnsons. Their daughter, Skye, supposedly 'started coughing as her lips turned a charcoal color, which supposedly spread to the rest of her body, causing instant rigor mortis. Pronounced dead on scene.' That's the statement the Johnsons made, and the medical examiner's report pretty much corroborates that." He handed the folder to Bobbi, who looked it over with the precision of a trained lawyer. As she read, Lance watched in fascination as she blew a wavy strand of blonde hair out of her face. _Had her hair always been that damn curly?_

"Did they say why they bought the item in the first place?" Bobbi's tone was crisp and efficient, and suddenly he understood how she'd risen to the top of the ranks so quickly. "Health problems, superficial reasons, anything related to actual or supposed medical issues? Actually," she frowned as she shut the folder, "what's this thing supposed to do in the first place?"

"Supposedly, it's supposed to de-age the consumer's skin. Forty looking twenty, fifty looking thirty, yada yada yada. It's LA, what are you gonna do? Doesn't explain why the daughter drank it, though. She's only seventeen." Bobbi carefully lifted the vial out of its foam casing, lifting it so that it would catch the light. She frowned at it, then fished a pair of rubber gloves out of her desk drawer before uncorking it and giving it a whiff.

"Smells like cough syrup," she said, making a face. "If anything, I'm guessing the daughter was looking for a codeine high and accidentally drank this while looking for actual cough medicine." The vial was carefully replaced in the briefcase, Bobbi closing the lid and pushing it far away from her. "How much are they looking for?"

"The mother, Jaiying, is hell-bent on revenge; the dad plans to take us to court until we settle," Lance sighed. "Boss is already cutting people as we speak to prep for the fees." Bobbi frowned-she may not have approved of their product, but she didn't want to see innocent people get put out of work because of what some nerdy scientists (okay, that wasn't fair, _lab rats_) had cooked up in a lab during what was most likely their off time.

"Tell you what," she decided, hoping that she wouldn't get fired for this. "I'll do it for half our usual rate." Of course, Bobbi would probably have to pay out of her own pocket for the _other_ half, but she'd made plenty of money over the years-more than she'd ever need. "Where do I sign?"

But it looked like Lance had other plans. "You don't have to do that, Bobbi, you really don't. Personally, I think they're a bunch of bastards themselves, charging an arm and a leg for half-assed products, but you really don't have to do this..." She raised an eyebrow at him-was he really insulting the people who kept him on the payroll? Nervously, he slid her the paper and a fountain pen, grinning crookedly when she huffed a laugh at the pen. "Yes, we know, putting an actual human in the pen is _such_ a great idea. Trust me, not mine."

"And who will I be consulting with on this case?" she asked slyly, her signature bold and blue on the page as she slid the document back over to him. Though she already had a feeling who, she wanted to hear it from his mouth all the same. Lance made a move to stand up, and she mirrored it, holding out her hand.

"Why, me of course," They shook once more like they had the previous day, both of them choosing to ignore the fact that tingles raced through their skins at the touch. As he was leaving the door, Lance had the audacity to wink at Bobbi. "I was the youngest Englishman to pass the bar in twenty-five years, after all."

* * *

"Is this your car?"

She really needed to stop hearing that sentence, Bobbi decided as she stepped out of the local cafe holding her precious chai latte. She needed that caffeine every morning, lest she crash at noon and mess up on her case. And with her salary riding on the outcome of this one, her chai latte was most definitely needed.

"Yes, it is," she answered, tiniest bit of impatience in her voice. After all, this had been the third time she'd heard that sentence in a week, and she was beginning to expect Lance to come around the corner every time she heard it. Unfortunately, there was no Lance this time around; just some pathetic-looking man in a beret and tie-dye pants. _Hi, the sixties called. They want their spokesperson back._ "What's your reason for asking?"

"Didn't think a pretty lady such as you would have such a car like that," he drawled, shooting her a grin that showed many missing teeth. "This car here's for the men to be ridin around in." Bobbi was debating on how to welcome him to 2015 (perhaps maybe with a sarcastic comment and a middle finger?) when he spoke again. "If you come with me, I can show you what a _real_ ride looks like,"

It was hard to miss that innuendo, she mused, and used it to make her exit. "Well, on that note, I really must be going," she said, fishing in her bag for her keys. "Been great talking to you, really, it has been-" She stopped cold as the sleazeball grabbed ahold of her arm, his cold, dark eyes fixated on her face. The nervousness unsettled her, despite her years of training in emotional settlements.

"No one runs away from Grant Ward, sugar," he rasped, a pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. Bobbi shuddered. "You're gonna wanna come with me if you value your life." Her mind went into panic mode, instantly assessing every which way she could get out of the situation. There was a kick to the groin. There was stabbing him with her keys. There was spitting in his face...no, better yet, go with the groin...

"Finally, there you are!"

Both Bobbi and the man jumped as Lance came hurrying up the street, a chai latte in his hand. "Been looking for ya all over the place, love, and the man at the shop told me you'd just left! Even got you your chai latte just how you like it. All cinnamon, minimum froth. Oh, hello," he said to the seemingly homeless man, who was still clutching Bobbi's arm. "Strikin' up a conversation with my girlfriend there, are ya?"

Grant leapt back, letting go of Bobbi's arm as if he'd been burnt. Which, in a way, he had been. "This your boyfriend, sugar?" he asked, the leer still present on his face but apparent fear lacing his tone. "Didn't know you were the taken type." Bobbi rubbed her arm as if she'd caught some contagious disease, instantly wishing she had some sort of hand sanitizer.

"Meet my _boyfriend_, Lance," Bobbi answered, slinging an arm around his shoulders for good measure. "Isn't he just the cutest thing? I feel so lucky to have him." She shot him a dazed, sappy look, mentally sighing in relief when he returned the gesture, kissing her on the forehead. _And she was definitely imagining the sparks. Most definitely._ "Now come on, honey. We're going to be late picking up my mother for lunch."

"Yes, dear," At that, Lance visibly slumped over, turning to Ward, who was still looking at them with his jaw wide open. "Her mother is an absolute nightmare," Lance told him in a stage whisper as he was led off by Bobbi. "Hates me, the old hag. Wish she'd hurry up and kick the bucket already." His comment was rewarded with a smack on the head as they got into the car, Lance waving jauntily as they pulled away.

"Thanks," Bobbi exhaled once they were out of sight of Ward, her facade dropping easily. "I thought I was going to have to kick him in the nuts." She looked rattled, Lance noticed, and was surprised at his urge to gather her in his arms to tell her it was alright. "Believe it or not, that was my first time in something like that."

"Well, who am I to leave a pretty lady in distress like that?" he asked mildly, taking a sip of his latte. "Besides, I had to deal with my own share of homeless blokes back in London-they're not exactly pretty." He didn't tell her that he'd done his time as a homeless man on the cobblestoned streets, a jacket and a styrofoam cup his only friends. "Believe, me, Bob. I'm glad I was there."

"Bob?" she asked, shooting him a curious grin, her eyes alight. Lance silently cursed himself for shortening the already appropriate nickname. _Why the hell did you have to do that? Now she'll think you're some sort of creep and you'll never get a date with her._ "Where'd you get that from?" Not that she was complaining or anything-everyone else had been content to call her Bobbi, no one shortening it to _Bob_.

"Bobbi, Bob," he shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It seemed fitting. Plus, it makes you sound like more of a badass. No one wants to mess with a Bob." Bobbi laughed at that, and Lance grinned, glad she seemed to be in good spirits once more. "Just like no one messes with Hunter. Lance just sounds like the geek you'd beat up in the dumpster in an alleyway."

"Wait, so are you saying that I've been calling you the wrong thing this entire time?" Bobbi gasped, nearly swerving to take a turn. "Why didn't you tell me the first time we met?" Goodness, all that she'd just put him through, and now she learned she was calling him the wrong name! "Jesus, Hunter, you could've given me _some_ sort of hint."

"I don't mind much," he said, meaning every part of that sentence. Truthfully, he didn't. No one had called him Lance since his mother, and that had only been when he'd been in trouble. Hearing Bobbi say it now gave him a sense of belonging, like there was finally someone who cared for him. _Don't get ahead of yourself, Lance,_ he told himself. _She'll start calling you Hunter now that she's realized that's how you want to be called._

"Good, then I'll keep doing it," Bobbi smirked, taking a left turn into the Inhuman Industries parking lot. "I figured you were on your way back to work," she said by way of explanation when Hunter gave her a curious look. "It was the least I could do after kidnapping you and making you pretend to be my boyfriend." The unspoken was left hanging in the air: he hadn't minded doing so one bit. And neither had she.

"So are we still on for that three o'clock tomorrow?" Hunter asked as he climbed out of the car, picking up his suit jacket to go with it. Bobbi nodded, reaffirming the date in her head. They'd agreed to meet the following day at a local cafe to discuss their plan of action, now that they'd discovered some key evidence that had proved Skye's death hadn't been totally due to the product she'd ingested.

"It's a-" The word 'date' caught in Bobbi's throat, and she cleared her throat, hoping to buy some time. "It's most definitely on," she corrected herself, waving goodbye as he headed in. "I'll catch you tomorrow!" _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she cursed herself. _What makes you think he wants to go on a date with you, of all people? Probably has a girlfriend back in England or something. You two are just friends. JUST. FRIENDS._

She tried to keep telling herself that as she 'unconsciously' reached for the latte he'd left in the car, forgoing hers for his. Two tablespoons of cinnamon, just the tiniest amount of froth. He really had known how she liked her coffee, she mused. Bobbi couldn't remember the last time someone had actually made the effort to remember how she liked her coffee. Not since.. _No, Bobbi. Not since Clint._ Not since her ex-boyfriend had left her crying in the streets, clutching her broken heart as the rain poured down.

Maybe things were finally turning around.

* * *

"Is this your car?"

Lance barely had time to answer as he was blindly shoved into the too-small vehicle, his head nearly bumping the ceiling. He felt around for a bit with his skull, looking for the telltale dent in the work-Fitz had once jammed a metal rod into the roof following a heavy night of drinking. As he reached a give in the car's metalwork, he relaxed. _Ah. There it was._ He winced as the keys were forcibly wrenched from his fingers, his captor climbing into the front seat.

"We got one down, one to go," he heard, and Lance tensed. Who were they taking with him? Why did they want him and the mysterious other person, anyways? _And thirdly...why'd it have to be HIS car?_ "Take a left. We'll get there faster. Boss says she's leaving the building in three." So it was a she, Lance mused. Well, it was a good thing they'd blindfolded him-he wouldn't be able to judge his company in what was apparently his dying hour.

"No, the OTHER way, you idiot!" the man on the passenger side was shouting. "Didn't you see the goddamn sign? Coulson and Co. on the left, Hand Harmonics on the right! How hard is it?" A small part of Lance's rationale panicked, worried that they were after Bobbi. It would certainly explain why he was being kidnapped in his own car. _But Bobbi is perfectly capable of taking care of herself._ She'd certainly proved it during their encounter with Grant Ward, although she'd been rattled for days.

"There she is," one of them whispered, and Lance wished desperately to see if they were indeed after Bobbi, or if they'd chosen someone else to be their victim. Even with the window shut, he could hear the signs of a struggle. The victim was clearly feminine, seemingly putting up quite a fight before she lost, the captors also dragging her to the vehicle. Lance heard the door open, the woman being shrugged in with a grunt (by the sounds of it, she was even taller than he was,) and shut again. He let the car drive for some time, listening for the sounds of the partition going up.

_Whiirrrrr..._

As soon as he heard the seal of glass on plastic, he whispered, "This car really isn't meant for tall people." The other person choked back a gasp, seeming to struggle with her emotions for a minute before asking,

"Lance?" His heart dropped. It really was his worst nightmare come true.

"Bobbi? Is that you?" He was answered with a slight squirming before her tied-up hands found his, the callused fingertips instantly confirming her identity. At that, he relaxed. Being in a car with Bobbi wouldn't be so bad. "First kidnapping, eh?"

She snorted. "You make it sound like this isn't your first rodeo." And unfortunately for him, it hadn't been-Lance had been part of some very unsavory kidnappings in his past: some had turned out well, the others not so much. This one was ranking more towards the amateur; whoever had kidnapped him obviously had had motivations, but no real expertise. Amateur or not, however, he could still feel Bobbi's hand shaking, and he squeezed it once in reassurance, allowing her to calm down.

"How have you not been kidnapped before?" he chose to ask instead, not wanting to dwell on his own past. "You're a lawyer, and a bloody good one at that. Surely someone's wanted you dead at least once. No?" he asked when he heard the _swish_ of Bobbi's blonde locks against her seatbelt. "Not even when you've handled high-profile cases? Jesus," he muttered to himself, "you've got an easy lawyer career."

"I've only been chief for a couple of years," she confessed. "There haven't been any cases high-profile enough to hand to me yet, until you came in and gave me this one. So yeah," she concluded breathlessly. "this is my first kidnapping. Hopefully not of many," Lance had the sinking feeling that this was indeed the start of many kidnappings for the poor woman, and his heart sunk. Bobbi, for all of her wit and charm, didn't deserve to be in the law business. She deserved to have much more happiness-as a nurse or something, far away from suing families and amateur kidnappings. He voiced as such, and she laughed. "You sound like my dad," she said to him, shifting so that she was more comfortable. "Always wanted me to go into pediatrics or something medical. _'Your entire family's been in the medical field,'_" she mocked, putting on a grave voice. "_It's time you stop dabbling in law, Barbara-get into a real woman's job._ Needless to say, we don't speak anymore,"

"Bloody hell," he said, awestruck. "Does your father know what year it is yet?" Growing up, Lance's parents had always been adamant that he keep common sense about him, remembering that women were, and would always be, equal to men. "I haven't even met the bloke and I don't like him." Bobbi laughed again, and had they not been blindfolded in a too-small car, he was sure this would have been like any other date, where they were just driving around learning about each other. In a way, it was still happening, except this drive ended in a possible death. It was nice-as nice as it could possibly get before imminent death.

"Hey. Quit yapping, you lovebirds." One of their captors rapped on the partition, causing Bobbi and Lance to jump, sobered. "This ain't summer camp." Lance had half a mind to ask him what this _was_ exactly, but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to endanger either of them.

"We're not-" Bobbi had begun, before Lance jabbed his elbow into her side-or, at least, what he thought was her side. "Lance, that was my chest." Oops. That would be a new one on his court record. "Just what exactly are you doing?"

"They think we're dating," he hissed, leaning in closer. To the people on the other side of the barrier, it looked like they were whispering sweet nothings, which was exactly what he wanted. "Now, I want you to listen very carefully to me and do everything I say." He felt Bobbi nod quickly, then continued. "I'm going to put my forehead on yours," he began. "I'm going to edge it up slowly until you can see. Then, I need you to work at each wind of the rope until it falls past your fingers. There's a switchblade in the middle seat pocket. Cut me free. And the whole time, it's got to look like we're saying our last goodbyes to each other, got it?"

"Okay," she agreed readily. As Lance leaned in, totally not inhaling her scent (she smelled like crisp sea days and cotton), Bobbi blurted out, "I just want you to know-everything I say to you, I'll mean it." He stopped then, his heart pounding in anticipation at what she meant.

"I'm really going to miss you, Bob." He tested the waters with a seemingly innocent statement at first, starting with something that would easily apply to the both of them. Their foreheads touched, after some mild bumping. Slowly, Lance found the swath of cloth covering her eyes, using friction to force it up.

"I'm going to miss you too, Lance Hunter," she exhaled softly, feeling her composure slip a little. "I'm really going to miss you and your damn English accent. Kept me up some nights, it did," Inch by inch, Bobbi regained her vision, blinking suddenly at the sunlight flooding her retinas. She shook her head a little, trying to clear it so she could focus on the task at hand. Flexing her fingertips, she painstakingly worked past each coil of rope, cheering quietly when her hands were finally freed. "I'm hoping it'll keep me up a _lot_ more." Bobbi grinned in satisfaction as she heard Lance's breath hitch-she still had it. Easily, she sliced through his bonds with the aforementioned switchblade, easing him to lie down so that they wouldn't be detected.

"I was hoping we'd get to this position a lot later, love," Lance joked as they lay on top of each other, their limbs tangled in the car's small space. "I'm not sure we did this the right way." Bobbi laughed, her head resting on his chest. "I mean, the first information we ever exchanged were insurance numbers. Even in England, we exchanged those later on."

"I've never done a single thing right in my life," Bobbi chuckled nonchalantly, her eyes raising to meet Lance's. "Went into law instead of medical school. Got into a shitty relationship with a man obsessed with archery who put an arrow through my heart. And I fell in love with an Englishman when my family history traces back to the American Revolution. I'm sure this won't hurt."

They heard the sliding of the partition before they saw it: as if telepathic, both of them feverishly locked their lips to each other's, wholly concerned with only surviving. Once it slid shut, however, Lance deepened the kiss, his hand coming to rest at the back of Bobbi's neck. It was some time before they came up for air, he was still cupping the back of her neck, skating a thumb across her cheek.

"When we get through this," Bobbi managed, "d'you maybe want to get dinner sometime? I'll introduce you to the great wonders of the Italian place across from my apartment." It was his turn to grin, dropping a small kiss on her forehead before replying what she hadn't before.

"It's a date."

"We're stopping," Bobbi realized, and indeed, their car was slowing to a stop. Panic overtook her once more, and she gripped Lance's shoulders tightly. "What do we do, Lance, what do we do?" She was most definitely going to die. She was going to die without ever having gotten married or paid off her law school debts or, hell, gone on a date with Lance...

"Bob. We're not not going to die. We're going to find out what the hell they want with us, kick their asses, get my car back, and go to dinner. Okay?" Lance's military training kicked in, and he was focused on only one goal: get Bobbi out safe and sound, no matter the cost. They scrambled to look docile as the door opened, and the guard hoisted them out. "Pity boss wouldn't let us have fun with this one," one of the men said. He groped Bobbi roughly, and she shuddered in disgust, already reconsidering the rest of her life. Maybe she would go into medical. "I have the feeling she would be a screamer."

That did it. With a roar, Lance clocked the man that was holding him hostage, swinging a fist around in rage at Bobbi's captor. He too went down with a grunt, and Lance planted a booted foot on his chest. "Who hired you, mate, and how much are they paying you?"

The man didn't respond, and Bobbi slapped him across the face. "Who hired you?" Lance gave her an appreciative look, and she shrugged. "I could do a mean slap back in my high school days. Plenty of ex-boyfriends to prove it." She slapped him again. "Don't make me slap-happy. I hit a lot harder when that happens."

"Cal Johnson," the man spat through a mouthful of blood and loose teeth. "Says you," he nodded at Lance, "were responsible for his daughter's death. The girl was just a bonus-sez he would pay extra for the lawyer he was boinking." Bobbi slapped him once more just for that comment. "What?" the man asked. "There ain't no denying the truth, pretty lady."

"We can't press charges," Bobbi sighed. "One, the Johnsons would get out of anything we pressed on them, and two, we can't prove anything." She turned to Lance. "All we've got is the evidence. We'll have to keep working with it to really prove our case." Lance nodded, nudging the man's head with his foot.

"Hope I won't be seeing you around, bud," he said, shooting him a salute. "I wouldn't fancy being on the receiving end of her attack. Sounds bloody terrifying, to be quite honest." Bobbi nodded in agreement, the two of them getting into Lance's car and heading off.

"They thought we were dating?" Bobbi asked in disbelief once more as they headed onto the highway. Lance, thankfully, knew where they were, and started navigating their way back to actual civilization. "Why would they think we were _dating_?"

"Must've been the coffee," he realized, thinking they must've had a lot more people on them than originally thought. "I wouldn't be surprised if they'd gotten that homeless bloke on it, too." As they turned on the highway, he said, "So. How do you feel about going to dinner?"

"After all of this?" Bobbi laughed. "That sounds wonderful."

* * *

"Is this your car?"

Bobbi stared at the bright red vehicle, trying to fight the way her breathing levels rose just slightly at seeing it. It was Lance's car, of course. Since then, Bobbi had avoided the car at all costs, preferring to use her navy blue Ford whenever possible. While it had led to she and Lance getting together (and here they were, two years later), there were still some nights she woke up in a sweat, having dreamed she was alone in the car once more, this time without Lance to save her. He'd held her every time they happened, constantly patient, always murmuring soft reassurances in her ear. He'd even gone so far as to have the car put into a lot, knowing how much it affected her.

"It's not mine," she said finally, proud at how stable her voice was. "It's Lance's." Mild panic washed through her. "Is he alright?" Being called to a seemingly abandoned place tended to arouse paranoia, especially given the lives they had. Lance's relationship with Bobbi had put him on a lot of lists, especially after the aftermath of the Johnson case. He hadn't batted an eyelash, simply shrugged and signed himself up for advanced self-defense.

The woman who had asked her-Melinda, her name tag read-only smiled and shook her head. "Lance said you'd say that," she said, getting up from her chair. She had a distinct English accent, Bobbi noticed, and it sounded a lot like Lance's. Melinda opened up the door to the car's passenger seat, motioning for Bobbi to get in. "Come on. I've got someplace to take you." Bobbi regarded the brunette girl suspiciously. There were plenty of ways Lance's car could've ended up in the girl's possession, some of them not too pleasant. Melinda noticed her hesitation and laughed, handing Bobbi a letter. She took it in, sliding open the envelope.

_Bob,_

_If you're reading this, it probably means you haven't taken Mel at her word. I figured something like that would happen. I don't blame you, though. Mel is the most annoying twerp to ever walk the face of the earth. Of course, you're probably going to love her, since she loves annoying the hell out of me. Sisters, I swear. I'm sure you'll love her. See you soon :)_

_Love, Lance_

"Sister?" Bobbi asked, lowering the letter and looking at Melinda in shock. "You two don't look anything alike." She briefly remembered Lance mentioning a couple of months ago that his sister had made it to the States, and that he was going to let her move into apartment, given that he spent so much time at Bobbi's, anyways. She'd asked him to move in as a result, leaving said sister with Lance's roommate,

Melinda, to her credit, wasn't fazed. "People say that all the time. Lance looks more like Dad. I take after my mum." She gestured once more to the car door. "So, Bobbi. I've heard a lot about you. You gonna get in the car so I can do my job?" Chuckling, Bobbi ducked onto the vehicle, momentarily forgetting her fear. "Tell me a bit about you." Immediately, Bobbi launched into her life story, including how she'd met Lance and their first case together.

"We still work together on cases," she finished, noting with satisfaction that they'd pulled up just as she finished her story. "I've told him multiple times he doesn't have to, but he still decides to stay, the stubborn man."

"I just want you to know, that no matter how many mistakes Lance might make, he still loves you," Melinda said finally, patting her on the back as she stopped, shutting off the car. "Go out there and have fun, alright?" Bobbi frowned at that implication, but still smiling weakly at the peppy brunette. "I promise it'll be the time of your life."

The building Melinda had stopped at was perched right on the edge of the sea, a small white house that looked quaint yet charming. Bobbi fell immediately in love with it, pulling out her phone to take a picture. She turned back to Melinda hesitantly, who motioned for her to go in. "Are you sure this is safe?" The other girl rolled her eyes.

"Would Lance have brought you here if it wasn't?" He had a point there, Bobbi figured, opening the rickety screen door and stepping in. It was like she'd stepped into another world, the walls a soft blue and seashells lining the built-in shelves on the wall. There was a fully-stocked kitchen to her left, the remains of a cutting board and some peppers on the counter. To her right sat a small, wooden table, empty except for an unlit candle. It was the back door, however, that had caught her attention, mainly because of the rose petals that created a path. Entranced, Bobbi followed it, pushing open the back door.

The back porch was small but intimate, a patio table laden with twin lobster and steamed vegetables, two glasses of wine already filled with her favorite Chantis. A tiny, round candle was lit in the middle, set on top of a sky blue tablecloth.

"Glad to see Mel did her job right."

Bobbi turned around to see Lance behind her, dressed in the same suit he'd been wearing the second time they'd met. He knew it was her favorite suit-there was something about the lapels that always had her swooning. "You're making me feel underdressed," she quipped, feeling self-conscious about her business suit, skirt and heels.

"You could never look underdressed, darling," he answered suavely, stepping around her to pull out her chair. Bobbi sat, taking in the visual feast with her eyes as Lance sat down across from her. "Although I would hate to ruin that suit with lobster juice." He handed her a bib. "Bib?"

They sat for a while in comfortable silence, occasionally breaking it with lobster shells cracking or the occasional jumping noise. Finally, when all that was left was a heap of shells in the bowl, Bobbi brought up the question she'd been dying to ask. "So what brings all of this on? Not that I don't love it or anything, really, I do, but..." She'd racked her brain all throughout dinner as to what might be going on, but had so far come up with nothing.

"Two years ago, I had just made it to the States, fresh across the pond, and hadn't even made it a week before I'd crashed my car by driving on the wrong side of the road," Lance proclaimed, his eyes taking on a nostalgic tone. Bobbi's eyes teared up-she hadn't started counting until they'd actually gotten together, not when they'd first met. "I was completely sure I was screwed. Blokes who drive navy blue Fords generally aren't all that nice.

"But I didn't get some muscly man looking to beat me up. No, I got a tough-as-nails lawyer who took no shit from anyone and was smart as a whip," Lance continued, "and pretty as all-get-out, too. Before I knew it, we took a case together. Inhuman Industries vs. Johnson. I saved her from a creepy homeless man. We got kidnapped together. Hell, we were messed up enough that we _got together _while getting kidnapped. And those kind of connections you don't forget easily."

"I learned everything about that woman in two years. I learned she loves lobster. I learned she adores country music but hates Taylor Swift. I learned that she has a giant stash of gummy bears hidden in the rainbow mug on the bottom shelf of the cabinet. Don't deny it, Bob," he said when Bobbi opened her mouth to protest. "I know it's there."

"I need to get a new mug," was all she muttered.

"I've learned all of these little things, but there's so much more to learn from the enigma that is you, Barbara Morse," Hunter said, taking her hand in his. "And I'd love to spend the rest of my life learning about them. So," he began, taking a box out of his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

Bobbi could count on one hand all of the times she'd been speechless. And that hadn't happened since she'd been left in the rain all those years ago. Since then, her mind had equated speechlessness with hopelessness-until now. Now, a new hope was driving its way in, the idea that she could finally be happy. "Of course," she choked, unable to say much else. "Of course I'll marry you."

"Good," Lance said as he slid the ring onto her finger. "Now we'll have the same insurance number."

* * *

**Review? Please? I'm starting icebreakers next week, so that'll be fun...best one gets two prizes!**


	46. Hiding Things

**Oops. When it's been two weeks...I'm sorry I really am! **

**Shoutout to Littlestladybug, silverflame63, musiclover981, asikdar7679, anasyof2003, iamalex117, Comin2U, Snowbarryholdsmyheart and mechanicalhobbit for following!**

**Best review goes to a-really-angry-sorceress for pointing out the accidental lack of continuity in the story...thanks for reviewing early, so I could fix it before anyone else saw...**

* * *

"Anyone seen Thor?" Natasha asked as she strode into the living room, frowning as she saw its state. Popcorn was scattered absolutely everywhere-on the couch, on the coffee table, even on the carpet they'd worked so hard to vaccuum last week. "Guys?" They couldn't have gone far, she mused. The bowl looked very recently overturned. "I know you guys are still around."

"Hide, Natasha!" Steve's panicked voice whispered from behind the couch. He poked his head out from behind the couch, his blue eyes the size of a Pringles can. "Hide while you still can!" Natasha was even _more _confused; since when had her boyfriend resorted to hiding as an option? "Take cover!"

"He's going to come for us all!" Tony whispered loudly, seemingly from nowhere as the coffee table began to vibrate. "Run and hide while you still can!" He hissed as he was jabbed in the side, trying not to cry as he remained absolutely still.

"Tony, you're going to give our position away. I am _not _going to go out via Asgardian ash," Another examination revealed Bruce to be hiding under the table with Tony, curled up into the fetal position. "We'll never speak about this again, okay, Natasha?"

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked, as Tony muttered something like 'I thought it was called planetary pu-pu platter'. "Has Thor gone rogue or something?" If he had, she mused, she was surprised he was still here-Thor would have rather died than go after his teammates. Just then, a primal roar shook the Tower as Pietro streaked by, Wanda in his arms. "Run!" he advised. "Thor's gone on the rampage!" Looking behind him, his gray eyes widened, Natasha's own green orbs snapping open as she saw Thor lumbering into the living room, fury on his face. Mjolnir crackled with more thunder than she'd ever seen, and she let out a squeak, vaulting over the back of the couch to hide with Steve.

"We will never speak of this again," she muttered as she landed in his lap, feeling his chest vibrate with his snickers. "I swear to god, Rogers, you tell anyone I landed in your pal, I'm sending you right back into the ice." He sobered up quickly, as did she when they heard Thor roar once more, the lights flickering in the room.

"WHERE ARE THEY?" Thor demanded, the couch coming dangerously close to falling apart. "WHERE HAVE YOU PUT THEM?!" He glared at the couch and coffee table with such venom Natasha swore he knew who was hiding where. "I know you are there, Banner, Stark, Captain. I have not yet encountered Lady Romanoff, but I am sure she will not hesitate to aid me. Now, WHERE ARE THEY?"

"For the last time, Point Break, I don't know where they are!" Tony squeaker, too cowed by the Asgardian to make a witty comeback. "I already told you-Capsicle, Brucie and I have no idea where they are!" The coffee table began to vibrate with Tony's shaking, and the remnants of popcorn spilled out of the bowl and onto the table. "Why would we joke about something as serious as this?" He reconsidered his statement. "Actually, why would _Rogers _joke about something as serious as this? You know I totally would, and I'd probably get Brucie in on it, too-" He was cut off as Thor brought Mjolnir down onto the coffee table, shattering it. Tony and Bruce screamed as their hiding spot collapsed around them.

"What the hell is going on here?" Pepper demanded, hurrying into the room. When she saw the broken coffee table and Thor holding his hammer aloft, she scowled, "Alright, Tony, what happened?" Tony cautiously crawled out from under the shattered table, hurt in his eyes.

"Thor shattered the coffee table and you want to ask _me _what's going on?" he whimpered. "I was just hiding under the table when Point Break here decided to shatter it on account of apparently we stole his Pop-Tarts, and _you want to ask me what's going on_?"

"Well, everyone's here," Pepper said confusedly, "and I just saw Pietro and Wanda...so where's Clint?" There was a silence as everyone realized just where Clint had gone. "Don't tell me Clint was the one that stole the Pop-Tarts."

"It was Friend Barton, it seems," Thor said darkly, and just like that, the sky outside began to match his mood, thunder rumbling in the distance. "We shall have to enact our revenge." He turned to Pepper. "Lady Potts, do you know where I can find the Eyes of Hawk?" Everyone noticed the name change. _Shit had gotten real. _

"Well, I can make a few calls," Pepper said nervously, feeling around for her cell phone without breaking eye contact with Thor. She pulled it out of her skirt pocket, dialing her number 5. "Maria?" she asked. "You seen Barton?" When the response on the other end was negative, she sighed. "No? Try Coulson? Alright." She hung up and turned back to him. "Try Coulson?"

"I'll take a team," Tony said, brushing himself off. "Where's Wilson?"

* * *

"Guys, does someone want to explain the surplus of food we suddenly got?" Skye asked, frowning at the large pile of food that had appeared in the kitchen. "I mean, I'm not complaining or anything, because hell, there's gummy bears-but where did it come from?"

"I figure, if it's HYDRA, going out by filet mignon isn't a bad way to go," Hunter shrugged as he entered, immediately fishing through the pile for said piece of steak. He held the package up in triumph. "Hey, Bob! You know how to cook this thing?" Bobbi poked her head in, a scowl on her pretty features.

"No, but I learned how to cook testicles a long time ago," she answered sweetly. "Wanna see _those_ culinary skills, Hunter?" Hunter just shook his head, dropped the steak back into the pile, and bolted in horror, leaving Bobbi to pick it up. "Excellent. Filet mignon." She turned to Skye, who had stared at the entire exchange in astonishment. "Want some? I learned how to do a mean sear undercover in Gordon Ramsey's kitchen once."

When Skye gained her voice back, she was still stuttering at the whole incident. "Medium rare, please." Bobbi just nodded and fished another steak out of the pile, heading towards the kitchen. "Simmons! Steak?" could be heard down the hallway. The same inquiry could be heard down the hallway at each room, and Skye busied herself picking steaks out of the pile.

"Man, if this is from HYDRA, I don't know why we're trying to destroy them. We should send them a gift basket," Mack snorted as he entered the kitchen, digging out a bag of potato chips. "With supplies like these, we could go for a year."

"Test everything you eat," Coulson warned as he entered, digging for a candy bar. "Ah, chocolate," he said, pulling one out with relish. "It's been awhile since I had one of these." He unwrapped the candy, sniffing it experimentally. "Always check for poison" was briefly directed at Mack and Skye before Coulson ate the bar whole. "Mmm. Almonds."

"All the same, the fact remains that we didn't receive the equivalent of an English market-or a Scottish one, yes, I know, Fitz-and that it's not as great as you all make it out to be!" Simmons' plaintative woes were heard from down the hallway, and Skye had to chuckle as she saw FitzSimmons enter the pantry, looking thoroughly upset.

"Do you still want a steak, Simmons?" Bobbi asked, fighting back laughter. "Even though I'm apparently 'going to massacre it like all of the bloody Americans do'?" Simmons looked flustered, her mouth rapidly opening and closing as she tried to formulate a response. "You know, I studied under a British chef. _And _I was married to Hunter once. I think I know how to handle a steak."

"For the record," Simmons managed finally, "that was Fitz who complained about your cooking." She waved a hand at her other half. "There was something about haggis mentioned as well, but I'm really not going to bring that up because it's really a dreadful thing-"

"I did _not_ say Bobbi would massacre the steak!" Fitz complained, having joined in towards the tail end of Simmons' retort. "All I said is that I hoped she wouldn't burn the bloody thing like May did the last time she tried to cook a steak!" Mollified, he began digging for some beef jerky, clutching a pack to his chest as he scurried back to the lab.

"He'll have a steak," Simmons assured Bobbi, sighing. "And I'll take one as well, Agent Morse." When Bobbi held up the steak with a raised eyebrow, she hurriedly corrected, "Bobbi." She quickly hurried after Fitz, leaving the rest of the crew in the pantry.

"Can I have a steak, too?" came a voice from the muffled pile. Skye, Coulson, Mack and Bobbi all jumped, instantly pulling their ICERs out at the pile. "Oh, come on, Phil," the voice snorted once more. "I've been here for a couple of hours. I'm famished. The least I could get for giving you all of this food is a steak. And maybe a bottle of beer?"

"_Barton_?" Coulson asked in disbelief, lowering his gun. "One, what the hell are you doing here, two, what's all this food doing on the Bus?" Clint was about to open his mouth to answer when May came barreling through the pantry, likely on her way to the cockpit.

"Radar just picked up three bogeys on our tail," she explained as she rushed by. "Can't identify who they are-their tech is too good. Get ready for some turbulence!" she called. "Time to test out whether I can do a 360 barrel roll in this thing." Coulson turned a nasty shade of green-the last time May had done a barrel roll, he'd been sick for an hour. Maybe this Kree blood was good for anti airsickness.

"Stark, probably," Clint muttered to himself. No one took notice, however, and began to suit up. Just for good measure, Bobbi hid the steaks in a safe, locking it so that Hunter wouldn't be able to get in. "Bobbi. Bobbi. Bobbi." When she looked at him expectantly, he asked, "Can I have a steak?"

She just tossed one at his face.

* * *

"Attention, agents, this is your pilot speaking. We're about to experience some heavy turbulence, so please strap in," May's deadpan voice sounded over the speaker. "This loser just bet that I couldn't do a 720 barrel roll in this thing, and let's just say I'm about to be $20 richer real soon."

Exasperated groans could heard all over the craft. "_Hunter!_"

Coulson sprinted towards the bathroom-he wasn't about to let everyone know he'd eaten through all of the team's beef jerky. Skye just sighed and reached for some gum. Instead, her hand snagged several silvery-looking packages. Bringing them out, she frowned and shifted apart the pile. There were several more packages there, all a silvery color. "Guys," she called. "I think I know why Barton's here."

Just then, Clint's phone rang, and he sighed before answering it. "Barton." Another sigh. "Yes, Tasha, I'm on the Bus. Yes, they've spotted me. Morse threw a steak at my face." Natasha's response clearly was insulting. "What? What do you mean, that's how every woman should react to me asking them for steak?" Bobbi burst into laughter above him. "And now she's laughing at me, Tasha-what? Tell May that Stark, Thor and Wilson are the three bogeys and they're going to engage in arms with the Bus for the Pop-Tarts? But it was a joke, I didn't think he'd get so angry about me stealing them-_fine_, Tasha. Catch you later." He hung up with another sigh, facing Skye, Mack and Bobbi. "Stark, Thor and Wilson just want the Pop-Tarts."

"IT'S JUST THE FLYING IDIOTS. STAND DOWN." Skye hollered back to May, hoping the message would get through. There was a loud roar of 'NO CAN DO' before the Bus lurched violently, tilting counterclockwise. Clint began heading towards the ceiling, the large pile of food following him. Bobbi, Mack and Skye chose instead to grab onto the cabinet door, hanging instead onto it instead of falling towards the ceiling. As soon as he touched the ceiling, Clint headed back towards the ground, the cycle repeating itself once more before he toppled onto the ground, getting hit in the head with a cantaloupe. It smashed open, its orange guts streaming all over his face.

"Well, I'd say that was a waste of a cantaloupe...but it's really not," Bobbi quipped as she regarded the scene, having gracefully landed on the ground after letting go of the cabinet. "In fact, I'd say it trended towards one of the more practical uses." Coulson came in, looking surprisingly not nauseous. "Sir, it's just the Avengers," she informed him. "Unfortunately, May was already in the steps of a barrel roll when she was informed."

"You have my permission to go kill Hunter," Coulson answered. "Since he was the only one insane enough to bet May that twenty, I'm thinking." Before Bobbi left, he stopped her. "Rare, please." She only nodded as Clint spluttered from the pile,

"HIM! AND I STILL DON'T GET A STEAK?"

"You're the reason May did a barrel roll!" Skye retorted, reaching for one of Thor's Pop-Tarts. "I think the occasion calls for a Pop-Tart. Maybe I'll even tell Thor you ate it." She ripped the silvery package open, examining its contents. "Huh. Special edition Oreo. Looks good to me." And in one smooth move, the pastry was eaten, much to Clint's horror.

"Don't eat them!" he exclaimed. "Thor's going to kill me if he finds out I ate one, and then I'll have to put up with Steve's 'I'm-Disappointed-In-You' face, and Tasha's going to glare at me, and-"

"Should've thought of that before you hid a Tower's worth of food on the Bus, hm?" Skye asked, picking up another package and tearing into it. "Wow! This was like, the Christmas edition of 2013. I didn't know they still sold it. Hey, Bobbi!" she called. "Want a Pop-Tart? I'm blaming the massacre on Barton!"

"Hand one over," Bobbi replied cheerfully, having returned from the cockpit. "Think you could hand over the rosemary, too? I've searched all over this pile, but I haven't found it." Skye quickly through the pile, and, finding nothing but Pop-Tarts, grabbed a pack and started looking through the other piles. It took a few minutes, as well as the discovery of several other items (read: gourmet coffee beans and tea bags that were quickly squirreled away) before she came upon the herbs, digging out a fresh sprig before returning to Bobbi.

"They still sell the cupcake edition?" she asked in delight as Skye handed her the herbs and pastry. "_Excellent_!" The pastry was quickly gobbled down, and Bobbi began cooking in earnest, her knife flying at inhuman speeds. Skye just watched in awe as she cooked, surprised at her agility and precision.

"_Welcoming party!_" came the voice of Tony Stark as three _thuds_ hit the roof, and May almost launched into another barrel roll. "Give us the Pop-Tarts and no one dies. We could care less about Barton." There was a small pause. "Okay, Point Break made me say that one. But the last part I'm not kidding about."

"POP-TART EATING PARTY!" Skye screeched, and everyone dashed in, grabbing for several packages of Pop-Tarts. Wrappers flew everywhere as everyone gorged themselves; FitzSimmons was especially candid, having never tasted a Pop-Tart before. When it was over, Coulson and Mack lay on the floor, groaning.

"We didn't leave any for May," Coulson realized in slight horror. "She loves the cinnamon ones. She's going to kill me." Skye, Bobbi and Simmons burst into laughter, poor Simmons hiccuping and looking slightly green as she did so. She immediately ran to the bathroom, and there was pity for her all around as they heard the sounds of retching.

"Shame," Mack commented. "Throwing them up-not a fun way to remember your first experience with Pop-Tarts." To Tony, he said, "Sorry, Stark, Barton ate all of them." There was the sound of a strangled shriek before the Bus door was wrenched open, the three Avengers dropping into the area.

"Barton," Thor growled, holding Mjolnir aloft at him. "You _dare _eat all of my beloved tarts of pop?" Clint struggled wildly to respond, pointing frantically at the rest of the Bus team so that Thor would figure out that they'd eaten them all. "So you have?" Thor looked thoughtful. "I see. It seems that you shall have to acquire more for me out of your pocket." At that, Clint started to actually cry-everyone knew that replenishing Thor's Pop-Tarts was extremely expensive. (It was the only thing Tony refused to pay for.)

Sam's phone beeped. "Banner says he wants his tea back." Skye sighed, disgruntled, as she opened the cabinet in which she'd hidden all of the tea. She handed it to Sam, who suddenly looked uncomfortable about having to carry all of it back. "You can keep the coffee. Stark can just get more."

"I refuse to drink tea after an all-nighter!" Tony exclaimed, the horror on his face equal to that of Clint's. "Tea does not do it like coffee does! It's been scientifically proven that coffee has more caffeine in it than tea!" Skye looked at him defiantly, standing her ground. She wasn't about to give up her decent coffee inheritance. Not without a decent fight that would probably involve quaking the plane.

"I suppose we shall have to to embark on a quest to the market, then," Thor shrugged, still holding his hammer aloft at Clint. He turned to Coulson, his expression pleading. "Son of Coul, at least allow me one hit. He is under the branch of SHIELD, and therefore is to your discretion." Coulson raised an eyebrow before nodding, and he barely saw Clint's look of betrayal before Thor hoisted him up, carrying him into the hallway. Everyone turned their backs, Mack going so far as to whistle jauntily while they pretended nothing was going on. There was the sounds of smashing and screaming, combined with Thor's outraged shouts.

"Steak's up!" Bobbi called through the carnage, and all of the agents scrambled towards the kitchen, where she'd prepared several plates, all garnished with just about everything under the sun. "Two rares, Coulson, Mack, three medium rares, FitzSimmons and Skye, a medium for May and myself, and...right, fat and trimmings for Barton." The waste was piled onto a plate, the rest of the dishes served up.

"I don't suppose you've got another steak in that pile, do you?" Sam asked, wandering into the kitchen. He'd left Thor to beat Clint up, Tony cheering him on with far too much excitement than was proper. "I flew here. I'm starved." He looked through the pile, letting out a fake sob upon finding out there were indeed no more. "Damn."

"We have any ketchup in the fridge?" Skye asked around a mouthful of steak. "Not that it's bad, Bobbi, I just eat every meat known to man with ketchup. Plus," she said, gesturing to the mound of mashed potatoes on her plate, "mashed potatoes and ketchup. The best." FitzSimmons followed Sam, each of them expressing their delight at the steaks, Fitz immediately reaching for a bottle of Worcestershire sauce. At _that_, Bobbi looked offended, and she made a point of throwing a small glob of mashed potatoes at him before continuing on.

"So I used all of the seasoning," she admitted calmly during a lull in the meal. May had come in not too long ago, taken the steak with a word of thanks to Bobbi, and headed back to the cockpit. (They could only assume she was planning to eat it while Hunter, who was being held captive, watched.) "We're going to need to get more. I also think we're low on toilet paper from FitzSimmons trying to use it as kindling a couple of weeks ago."

"We were low on flammable materials!" Simmons exclaimed as Coulson glared at her over a forkful of broccoli. "The next thing would have been Bobbi's Star Wars T-shirt! Which I stopped Fitz from burning, of course," she said meekly as Bobbi gave a start. "I would have burned his Dr. Who T-shirt first."

"Fine, we'll go grocery shopping," Coulson sighed to his agents' cheers. They all knew it was sad when they were cheering at getting to go _grocery shopping_, but hey, outside was outside. "1000 hours tomorrow. Bring shopping bags." Skye was psyched-she'd stolen a credit card off of Stark and intended to buy the best of everything. _Ben and Jerry's, here I come._

* * *

"I still can't believe you're making us go grocery shopping, Cap," Tony griped as they drove out to a supermarket. "Just because Barton stole all of the food and hid it on the Bus did not constitute everyone going shopping!" Steve said nothing as he gripped the wheel, silently rolling his eyes. Pietro and Wanda had opted to stay behind, still too cowed of Thor to actually stand being in a car with him.

"Shut it, Stark, or we won't get you anything you want," Natasha answered from her place next to Steve, her feet on the dashboard. Steve had long given up trying to make her take her feet off; in fact, they'd long since dubbed it 'Natasha's Dashboard', even going so far as to install a plaque on it. "You're lucky you got to sit in the backseat as it is." Thor had chosen to stay back at the Tower, mourning the loss of his precious Pop-Tarts.

"Still, though!" Tony insisted from his in the backseat, leaning into the partition that divided Steve and Natasha. "Why are we going supermarket shopping? It's pesant work! I'm not made out to traverse aisles and determine quality! Plus," he shuddered, "_coupons_. Even the thought of them makes me sick."

"Oh, you mean _these_?" Natasha asked, taking out a wad of coupons and holding them out to Tony. He screamed and jumped back, clutching Clint. "That's what I thought." She'd clipped them out specifically for that purpose. Not to mention it was her turn to pay for food. In the back, Clint rolled his eyes and slapped at Tony.

"Are we there yet?"

"Just about," Steve answered, turning into the parking lot. "Looks like we weren't the only ones to think about shopping," he said as they caught sight of a bright red car that read LOLA. As he pulled into a space, he said, "All right, here's the plan," he said to them. "Tony, you're on nonperishable duty. Chips, canned food, anything that doesn't require you to look at fresh stuff. Clint, meat and fish. Try to get something else that isn't T-bone steak or fried catfish. Bruce, dairy. I want ice cream that isn't five hundred cans of butter pecan." When Clint opened his mouth to protest, Steve answered, "That stuff was disgusting. I am never eating it again." To Natasha, he said, "You and I are on produce. Keeping the good stuff."

"BREAK!" Tony hooted, and the five of them got out of the car, each grabbing a shopping cart and hurtling into the supermarket. Steve and Natasha immediately grabbed for several plastic bags, each of them having their produce routine down flat.

As Natasha added several pounds of tomatoes to a plastic bag (hey, not her fault if she liked spaghetti and meatballs), she turned around to see her shopping cart suddenly missing, being wheeled away by a short Asian. "Hey!" she called to the woman, setting after her. "That's my shopping cart you took!" When the woman didn't answer, she tried once again in Mandarin, figuring English wasn't her native language. It was only then that the woman turned around, smirking.

"Of course, Romanoff," It was May. "Your cart has the best stuff," It didn't matter that May could barely boil water without setting something on fire-Bobbi was at least better than she was, and that steak had been _good_. May took off with the cart, Natasha giving chase with a shout. The wheels of the cart creaked as the two of them dashed through the aisles like children, weaving in and out erratically. "Chips?" she asked Coulson as she ran by, Coulson having been frowning over the selection of cheeses.

His answer was loud and clear as she sped away. "I COULD ALWAYS GO FOR SOME DORITOS!"

"MAKE SURE YOU GET THE ONES WITH ROGERS' FACE ON THEM," Skye hollered from where she was picking out candies. "YOU KNOW HE WON'T EAT THEM OTHERWISE."

May jumped into the cart to give it some speed, bodily steering it into the chip aisle. "Move over, Stark," she growled as she reached for the bags, sweeping them into the cart. The cart was full once May passed through the aisle, and once she jumped out, the cart was run through the cash register and parked in the SHIELD area. "Cart's ours!" she crowed joyfully. "Take that, Romanoff!"

Her victory was short-lived, however, as a metal claw descended from above, picking up Natasha's produce from the cart. May glared at Clint as he scurried away, the vegetables in his arms. "Sorry, May, but I'd rather not have Nat pissed for the next month!" he called to her as he deposited the food into a pile marked with a large 'A'. "You can keep the chips, though!"

* * *

"I'm telling you, Fitz, the salmon is _clearly_ better than the tuna," Simmons gestured, clearly exasperated with the conversation. She and Fitz had been standing over the seafood display for about half an hour, deciding which fish to take back on the Bus-after all, it wasn't every day that they kept fish aboard. Plus, they'd heard May had some pretty mad knife skills. "For one, it's worth more. Secondly, the Omega-3s would benefit all of us, seeing as we never get any sun,"

"Bobbi came back with a sunburn last week," Fitz pointed out grumpily. "And Jem, we need our protein more then we need some bloody vitamins. Hence, tuna. Not the salmon." He began to step up to the counter, fully intent on ordering, when Simmons grabbed him back.

"Have you considered the mercury level in tuna?" she hissed, her eyes flashing. "Did you ever think that getting tuna would end up-"

"-killing the whole team?" Fitz finished, rolling his eyes. "Yes, Jem, I thought about it, but have you considered the mercury level in _salmon_? We're five times likely to die from salmon than tuna. Hi," he said to the fisherman, stepping up before Simmons could protest any more. "Could I possibly get five pounds of your tuna-"

"_So_ sorry, three weeks and he's still having trouble with his fish names," Simmons cut in on a laugh, stepping in front of him. "What he _meant_ was that we'll have five pounds of salmon, Atlantic if you've got it-"

"Delusional, she is," Fitz cut her off with a wave of his hand, raising his voice slightly. "Honestly, she's the one who can't tell the difference between fishes. You'll have to excuse her, tiny bit addled in the brain she is; so if you could make it tuna, that'd be great-"

"Oh, I'M delirious!" Simmons shrieked, laughing hysterically. "Need I remind you that you were the one who thought asparagus and brussel sprouts were the same thing, Fitz, and you spent three hours telling Mack about why brussel sprouts made your urine smell!" Fitz turned deeply red at that comment, but snapped back,

"They're both green vegetables, Jem, but at least I wasn't the one who spent a day trying to tell the difference between a squash and a tomato!" he laughed, his remark almost derisive. "We'll have the tuna, please," he said finally to the fisherman. "Five pounds."

"Salmon," Simmons corrected. "We'll have five pounds of the _salmon_, if you please." The fisherman looked uncertain, his hand hovering between both fishes.

"Tuna."

"Salmon."

"Tuna."

"_Salmon_."

"_Tuna_."

"Are you guys ever going to decide, or should I just get mackerel for us all and get it over with?" Bobbi's amused voice filtered through their argument, and they turned to see her, holding her phone up video-style. FitzSimmons turned red in tandem, Simmons aiming for more of a purple.

"How much of that did you see?" Simmons stuttered finally, fumbling a plastic bag in her hands. Bobbi laughed, stopping her recording as her number was called.

"Miss, I sure hope you can make better decisions than them two there," the fisherman said, laughing. "What'll it be for you today?"

"I'll have five pounds of your finest mackerel, three salmon, and two tuna," Bobbi answered warmly, flashing the man a charming smile. "Got a friend who's got some crazy knife skills." Both Fitz and Simmons noticed that Bobbi had turned up a southern accent upon hearing the fisherman's, and fought to contain their snickers. "And any chance you got some fightin' lobsters over there?"

"Sure thing," he said, pulling the fish from their case. "We got a fresh batch, if you're interested. Also got some mighty big clams in the back," Bobbi slapped her hand to her mouth as if in genuine shock, and Simmons had to actually walk away as to not burst out laughing.

"That sounds great," Bobbi drawled, sounding amazed. "Could I possibly get my hands on some of those too?" When a large bunch of clams was scooped into a bag and handed to her, she let out a sound of thanks. "Why, aren't you the sweetest thing," she told him. "Thank you _so_ much."

"Thank you _so_ much," Simmons breathily mocked two aisles over with Fitz. The two of them burst into hearty laughter, their argument forgotten. "Aren't you just the sweetest thing." They didn't notice Bobbi's looming shadow until it was too late, each of them getting smacked in the head with one of her purchases.

"For the record, that was a horrible Southern accent," she chided gently as FitzSimmons rubbed their heads in pain. "I've never tried to do an English accent, so the least you could do is not mimic mine." When they looked at her in confusion, she said, "Georgia Tech. Savannah born and raised. And no, we don't eat peaches three meals a day."

"I wasn't going to ask," Fitz muttered when Simmons looked at him. "It was just a curiosity. We Scots eat haggis three meals a day. What's wrong with peaches?"

"I'm going to go get chips," Bobbi sighed, choosing to ignore completely what Fitz had just said. "You guys want any?"

"Is that fries or chips?" Simmons asked. Somewhere, a few aisles down, they heard Tony burst into laughter, followed by the sound of a slap. "Because you could technically mean either one, although since we're in America, I guess you mean potato chips, and not actual _fries_, and-"

"Chips, Simmons." Bobbi looked endearingly amused. "Actual bagged potato chips. If you wanted fries, all you had to do was say so. I'm sure Mack wouldn't object to getting to use the fryer in the garage." Tony was still laughing, despite the person who had slapped him, and he kept laughing until there was the sound of a scream and the splat of a tomato.

"Don't mess with my scientists." came Bruce's soft-spoken voice, and the three of them _swore_ they could hear the sounds of Tony crying. Simmons turned back to Bobbi, answering,

"I'll have some Utz, please. Crinkles. Regular." Bobbi looked at her weirdly before she walked away, muttering,

"I don't get it. You were begging for Doritos last week."

* * *

Thor stared at the mass of boxes in the aisles, looking thoroughly confused at the packaging. Whenever he happened upon boxes at the Tower, they were all encased in silvery foils. Now, there was not a foil to be seen, instead, he was seeing multiple packages of blue. Where were his Pop-Tarts? The amicable young man had told him this was indeed the right aisle...

"Ooh, Pop-Tarts!" a feminine voice came from his right, and he turned to see Skye next to him, reaching out to sweep an armful of boxes into a basket. "At this point, I don't even care what flavors I'm getting," she told him. "As long as I have enough to last me through the next supermarket run, I'm alright." She handed Thor a dented box. "Looking for these?"

"I do not understand," he said, still puzzled. "I have never seen this type of Pop-Tart before. Is it some special edition I have not yet encountered?" If it was some sort of special edition, he _had _to have it. There wasn't a special edition Pop-Tart he wouldn't eat.

"They're just Pop-Tarts," Skye laughed, grabbing an empty basket as the first one was filled. "If they say 'special edition' on the front, then they're the special edition ones. Other than that, it's a free for all." It sunk in to him what Skye was saying, and he immediately started grabbing for boxes, some of them falling to the ground with the force of his grip. She realized her mistake and began grabbing them faster, even using her power to knock some boxes to the ground so that she could run by and pick them up.

"You shall never have all of the Pop-Tarts, Lady Skye!" Thor rumbled, running ahead of her in the aisle, sweeping up fallen boxes. "In the name of Odin, I swear I shall bring some back to the Tower for consumption!" In his haste to pick up the boxes, he nearly swept Skye aside. She kept her balance, but just barely.

"HUNTER, PLAN 426-ALPHA!" she screamed. Instantly, Hunter appeared at the head of aisle, beginning to aid Skye in scooping up boxes. Once, Thor was even hit with a cucumber, and he flailed comically before tipping into the shelf. Skye and Hunter shared a high-five before quickly continuing on their quest.

_BOOM. _

They watched as several shelves tipped over like dominoes, crashing into the ground loudly. At the end of it all, Skye and Hunter stared, stunned, as the rest of the shoppers turned to look at them. They quickly shuffled away innocently, Skye occasionally stopping to pick up discarded Pop-Tart boxes.

"It was Thor's fault!" they said in unison as Coulson strode up to them, looking equal parts livid and curious. When he eyed the baskets in their arms, Skye amended, "Thor started the whole thing. I was just rescuing the Pop-Tarts." The three of them looked over at Thor, who was stirring groggily on the floor.

"Well, I hope everyone got their chips?" Hunter asked, attempting to lighten the mood. Panic crossed Skye's face as she remembered that chips had been on her list.

"Crap. I didn't get any Doritos." Her face fell into a pout. "I haven't had Doritos in three months!" She handed her basket to Hunter, striding a few aisles over. "Hold them. I'm going in!" Before he could answer, she'd already dived into the rubble.

* * *

"Tony, put the coffee back," Bruce said tiredly as Tony attempted to reach for yet _another _bag of Arabica beans. "That's the third bag of coffee you've reached for in the last five minutes. I am _not _allowing you to attempt to drink a bag of coffee beans in a grocery store."

"But I need the caffeine, Brucie!" Tony protested. "That tea you've got me on doesn't do anything for me! I told you coffee was better than tea!" They'd been having this argument for months-Tony would always argue that coffee had more caffeine per bean, and Bruce would argue that tea had other qualities, rather than just energizing the user.

Behind them, several shelves crashed to the ground in unison, Bruce and Tony jumping as a shelf collided with the ground, emitting a loud _clang. _Tony risked looking behind him, nearly screaming out in horror as he saw bags upon bags of coffee beans spilling upon the ground.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Bruce barely had time to even _think _about lunging towards Tony before he was scrabbling on the ground, picking up individual beans and cradling them to his chest. "It's okay, Daddy's got you," he soothed them. "It's okay." Soon enough, however, he gave into temptation, and started picking up beans off of the ground to eat, letting out sounds of happiness as they went down his throat.

"There are five million things wrong with this," Steve muttered as he picked Tony up bodily, having arrived just when Tony had started eating beans off of the ground. "Bruce, you need to put him back on caffeine," he said to the scientist. "That tea's not doing it. Heck, it barely even gets _Natasha _up in the mornings. I don't know how you do it."

"My babies!" Tony shrieked, only half coherent. "I need to be with my babies! They need love and care and nurture and-"

"And to go down your throat, I'm sure," Bruce said dryly as Steve toted a screaming Tony away, presumably away from temptation. With a sigh, he began to pick up the spilled coffee beans. "I don't want to think about what would happen if you ate the beans straight up."

"_Not the coffee!_" came a scandalized shout, and he turned to see Coulson with a look of horror on his face. "I hadn't bought the coffee yet! And Mack drank all of it this morning!" Bruce sighed again before taking out the bags of coffee they'd acquired and putting them into Coulson's basket. "Oh. Thanks, Dr. Banner."

"Not a problem," he said, and he meant it. "Tony can just get better coffee online." Another crash resounded, and this time it was FitzSimmons' shouts that filled the air.

"_NOT THE TEA!"_

* * *

"Where's Skye?" May asked as the Bus team regrouped in front of the cash registers. "Hunter, wasn't she with you?" Hunter put his hands up in innocence, shaking his head. "I saw you two fighting Thor over the Pop-Tarts. And don't pull that twin trick again, I know you don't have any siblings."

"She went in to get Doritos!" Hunter exclaimed, shaking his head madly. "I don't know what the bloody hell she was thinking! I thought she'd come out half an hour ago!" Because honestly, if Skye was still trapped under the bags of Doritos, they wouldn't go in. She'd have to eat her way out. After some silence, he asked, "D'you think she got the special edition Hulk ones?"

The rest of the team gave him a glare that said _Not funny. _

"If she has to eat her way out, her weight gain would be _massive_," Simmons worried, twisting her fingers. "Not to mention the strain it would put on her heart. In fact, if she ate her way out of the rubble, she could very well take ten years off of her life expectancy!"

"Let's not forget she has _powers,_" Fitz added dryly, crossing his arms. "She could save herself all of the health problems if she quaked her way out." In fact, it seems Skye did just that, as a hole blew itself through a large wall of wine bottles, the alcohol flying everywhere. Through a haze, they could see Tony leaping towards the alcohol, attempting to catch some of it on his tongue.

"Wow," Coulson remarked. "Wonder what they've got him on."

"I'M ALIIIIIIIIVE!" Skye exclaimed, crawling out of the rubble with several bags of Doritos in her arms. "And with tons of Doritos!" She looked around the supermarket, from Tony trying to lick the alcohol to FitzSimmons arguing over her imminent death. "Okay...I'm just going to sit here in the corner and eat these..."

* * *

**Read and review? I promise not to let things slip so much this time, my social calendar actually got _full _for once (kind of) and things happened. **

**Also, your icebreaker for this week. It's a question I'll ask so I can get to know my readers better! Who is that _one _character from the Avengers or the Bus Team that is pretty much everything? For me (at the moment) the answer is Bobbi, because ****tiny Adrianne Palicki on _Friday Night Lights. _That is all. **

**Best answer gets a bag of Doritos!**


	47. Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

**Hi guys! How is everyone? I finished work this week-it was one of the worst summer's I've ever had, so I'm glad it's over :)**

**Shoutout to EarthandSea1969 and MiniM236 for following!**

**A lot of you guys chose Skye as your everything, and Natasha followed a close second. I'm not going to disagree with that! :D**

* * *

Steve attempted to open his eyes, a pounding present in his head that he'd only felt once before in his life. Once he _did _manage to open his eyes, he quickly slammed them shut again, realizing that the light was _way _too bright for a regular morning at the Tower.

"What...what happened?" he rasped, choking slightly as his voice broke from the soreness in his throat. No one answered, so despite the constant pain throbbing in his temple, he cautiously opened his eyes once more. The room he was in was a mess, clothes and items strewn everywhere. He thought he could make out his shield in the corner, but even that was a hazardous guess.

And was that...was that _Natasha _across from him? And if so, why was she across the room? Why wasn't she in bed with him? That begged the question: who was in bed with _him? _Steve turned his head sideways, every muscle in his body protesting with each fraction of movement. The first thing he saw was a shock of blonde hair, and his first thought was _Oh god, I've slept with Bobbi, Hunter's going to kill me. _But the hair was a darker shade than Bobbi's, more frizzed out than curly.

That only left one answer.

He'd rather have slept with Bobbi.

"_Dammit." _Because sleeping with Pepper Potts, platonically or not, was sure to provoke a response from Tony, and depending on whether he was sober or not, would range from a dig in the side to a full-out shouting match that concluded in Tony calling for his Iron Man suit. Steve rubbed at his eyes and sat up, the pounding in his head not lessening one bit. Slowly, he got out of bed, shuffling towards the bathroom.

A splash of cold water to the face later, Steve felt much more revitalized, and wandered out once more into the room in which he'd woken up in, noting with much amusement that the bedrooms had been avoided completely. Once back out in the living room, he was greeted with the sight of seven other prone bodies, none of them in the right places.

_Did I step into the Twilight Zone or something...? _This was most definitely seeming like the alternate universe that Natasha had thoroughly schooled him in. Because for no reason should Tony have been sleeping with Darcy: nor Natasha with Bucky, he with Pepper, and most _certainly _not Clint with Maria Hill.

A sheaf of laminated papers piled next to the impossibly large TV flatscreen, and Steve picked them up, curious as to what they were. As he read, his blue eyes grew situation was a _lot _worse than they'd originally imagined.

_He _had not only slept with Pepper, but he'd gotten _married _to her. And while he liked Pepper enough, he didn't think their relationship was anywhere near marital level. But if he'd slept with Pepper and married her, then that meant...

_Oh, now Tony was most definitely going to kill him. _He was _not _married to Pepper. Tony _wasn't _married to Darcy. Bucky was _not _married to Natasha. And Clint was most _definitely _not married to Hill. He was certain of that on a number of terms.

And yet...Steve examined the marriage certificates. Apparently, they'd all gotten married within five minutes of each other, presumably while the priest was reading the vows. It certainly explained his throbbing headache. Most likely he'd gotten hitched while on one of Tony' drinking binges, but that didn't explain why _he _was married. He should've been the one running around trying to get rid of them before everyone else woke up.

There was the tinkling of cups from somewhere beyond, and Steve frowned. He hadn't even been the first one up. He followed the sound into the kitchen, where Bruce was laying out several caps of aspirin and coffee. _He _looked perfectly sober, Steve noticed, as he took one of the caps and cups. "Morning, Dr. Banner,"

Bruce looked surprised to see one of them awake so early. Then again, it was Steve, so he wasn't surprised. "Good morning, Steve," he said quietly, so as not to disturb Steve's headache. "Recovering from your hangover nicely, it seems." A surprised look took over on Steve's face-looked like this was the first time he'd gotten hung over.

"So _this _is what a hangover feels like," he mused, drinking some more coffee. "Uh, Bruce, do you happen to know what happened last night? As a matter of fact, where even are we?" Bruce grew apprehensive at that, and he motioned for Steve to sit.

"We're in Vegas," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Tony suggested we all go to 'let some steam off after that last idiot takeover', so we all piled into a StarkJet and took off." There was another sigh and a sip of tea. "And you know what Tony does in Vegas. It should explain how you're all married."

"So we're all married," Steve echoed in shock, slumping back onto the couch. "Even you?" Bruce let out a laugh.

"Except for me," he snorted. "I know better than to get into Tony's drinking binges. It involves a lot more people seeing the Other Guy than I want." There was also the fact that no one out there could (or would) hold his interest-his heart had been taken, and quite chaotically so for a long time.

"How does that involve Ms. Potts again?" Steve asked weakly. He couldn't really think of a reason Pepper had come along, lest it be for keeping Tony under control-and she'd certainly failed to do that, if she was married to Steve.

"She wanted to drink to forget," Bruce answered pityingly. He knew what it felt like-almost everyone did, except for Steve, no matter how much he wanted to. "Natasha thought it would be a good idea for her to try it at least once. Darcy said she'd go too-guess too many nights without Bucky were starting to do her in."

"And somehow we all managed to end up married?" Steve asked. "To the wrong people, no less." He _still _couldn't quite believe he was married to Pepper-_Pepper_, of all people. Not Jane, not Hill, but _Pepper. _"Do you know how that happened?"

"Well, for you, it was ironic," Bruce stifled a laugh as he choked on his tea. "You see, it all started when Thor accidentally left his beer on a table..."

* * *

"_Have you seen my ale?" Thor asked Bruce, leaning in so that his voice was heard. People all around them were screaming and dancing, the music loud enough to burst anyone's eardrums. He and Bruce were the only ones at the bar, the rest of the Avengers (as well as Pepper and Darcy) having filed onto the dance floor. _

"_I thought it was in this cup," Bruce frowned, confused. He'd been nursing his own pint of ginger ale all night, having figured it passed enough for alcohol that Tony wouldn't be able to tell the difference when he was totally smashed. "Isn't that it?"_

" '_Tis merely Midgardian ale," Thor said, draining said mug in one gulp. "It has no effect on me." Suddenly, there was a commotion on the dance floor, and both of them looked to Tony, who was boisterously celebrating with Darcy. Not that he seemed to mind. In fact, he was dancing just as vigorously with Natasha. _

"_Pepper Potts!" Steve's voice boomed, and the crowd parted enough for Thor and Bruce to see Steve down on one knee, a piece of pepperoni pizza in his hand. "Tonight has been declared a free-for-all, so I declare that I've pushed down my feelings for you for __years__ for Tony. But now that my chance has finally arrived, I would be a fool not to waste it. Pepper Potts," he exclaimed, brandishing the slice of pepperoni pizza at a clearly shocked Pepper. "Will you marry me?" _

_There was a hush as the crowd waited for Pepper's decision. Obviously, the whole of the world knew that Pepper was with Tony, so if she said yes, there would clearly be an uproar. But Pepper didn't seem to care. "Of course I'll marry you!" she exclaimed cheerfully, tugging Steve to his feet. as the crowd cheered. "I didn't think anyone would __ever_ _propose to me!_"

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Steve answered, dumbstruck. "I proposed to Ms. Potts...with a slice of pepperoni pizza." He and Bruce sat in silence, the irony not lost on either of them. "That's definitely not how I imagined my first proposal going."

"Steve, have you seen this?" Pepper asked groggily as she wandered into the living room. "Oh, aspirin, thank you Dr. Banner, you're a godsend. I haven't had that much to drink since my college days." She gratefully chugged down the medicine and coffee before plopping down onto the couch and showing Steve a large diamond ring. "We're..._married._" She giggled nervously. "No offense, but this isn't how I imagined my first marriage going."

"Nor did I," he agreed. "We don't have _anything _in common...except for our blond hair? It's not that I don't like you, Ms. Potts...just not in that way."

"Whazzup, Capsicle? Pep?" Tony stumbled into the kitchen, chugging down his share of aspirin and coffee. He seemed to wake up a little more then, and the four of them waited patiently as Darcy followed, amid several swear words and stumbles into the door.

"Don't judge, I'm not as good as you four at waking from hangovers. I don't think I've ever had that much to drink," she groaned, flopping onto the floor at Steve and Pepper's feet-she hadn't even made it to the couch. "I'm never drinking like that again." For the first time, she caught sight of her left hand, turning to frown at Tony. "Why the hell am I wearing your class ring?"

"It was the only ring you had on you," Bruce said to Tony, who frowned in confusion. "You two are married." Steve reached over for the certificates, handing Tony and Darcy's over them. "Steve's married to Pepper."

"But-what-_how_?" Tony spluttered, holding the piece of paper up so that it caught the light. "And it's not a fake either. Holy shit," he muttered, dropping his head into his hands. "I just got married...in Vegas." His head snapped up in horror. "_Please _tell me we weren't married by an Elvis impersonator."

"How'd I get married to _you_, anyways?" Darcy asked, her revulsion beginning to show through her shock. "I'm like, 95% sure this was your idea, anyways."

"I'd tell you if it was or not, but I don't have a freaking idea," Pepper muttered, falling into Steve. Hey, they were married-even if it was for just a little while, she was going to soak it up while she could. "I'm just as hungover as you are."

"Well, it was sort of your idea," Bruce hedged. "It was your idea to have a drinking contest in the first place."

* * *

"_I'm not just easy on the eyes, Stark, I can hold my liquor just as well as you can," Darcy was arguing with Tony, "Holding your liquor is not just a 'manly' skill." The two of them had polished off several beers, having moved onto the wine a while ago. _

"_Then I'm sure you won't be against proving it," Tony sneered, raising a glass to her. "Ten shots a round. Loser has to propose to their significant other." He must've been confident about a win, Darcy mused, because the apocalypse would've sooner happened than Tony proposing to Pepper. _

"_Bring it." She motioned to a waiter for a round, and they immediately set to downing shots as soon as it arrived, the wine washing down like it was juice. Thor enthusiastically kept score, seemingly having gotten over having his ale replaced with cheap beer. It was most likely Steve had drunk it anyways, and the man needed a good loosening up. _

_They were well into the sixth round when Darcy began to slow, the nausea slowly beginning to creep up her esophagus. Still, she continued to slam down shot after shot, only stopping when the beginnings of a good hurl appeared in the back of her throat. "Stop," she gasped, slamming down her shot glass. "I'll do it." _

"_Aha," Tony crowed, plunking his shot glass in triumph. "So you submit! I knew it! You couldn't live up to your claim even if you tried." Darcy scowled, but nodded. She'd beat him next time. After he got good and drunk while she was plain sober. _

"_So will you do it?" she asked bluntly. Tony was a little slow on the uptake, for he downed another shot before asking, _

"_What?"_

"_Marry me." Darcy answered. Her nausea having gone down a bit, she threw down another shot, using it as liquid courage. "I just lost a drinking contest to Stark, Buck, and I don't need more bruising for my ego, so will you please just say yes and marry me?" _

" '_Course I will, darlin'," Tony drawled, taking another shot of his own. "Girl like you should have her own ring, too." And with that, he handed Darcy his prized class ring, slipping it onto her left hand with reverence._

* * *

"I think I'm going to hurl," Darcy realized suddenly, and they all made room for her as she rocketed to her feet, flying to the bathroom. There was the sounds of retching and several toilet flushings, followed by the sink running before she returned, looking slightly battered. "Have your class ring back, Stark," she said, handing it back. Tony took it, slightly mollified.

"Speaking of which, we need to discuss business," Pepper said lazily, still in Steve's lap. "Technically, while we're married, Steve can do whatever he'd like with SI." Tony burst into derisive laughter.

"What's Cap going to do? Make weaponized walkers?" He seemed to recover quickly from hangovers, probably because he had them so often. Whatever it was, his snark was definitely making a full comeback.

"Maybe I'll sell some stock to Hammer Industries," Steve suggested lightly. Tony clutched his chest in horror-and something told them that wasn't faked.

"You do that, and there will be war, regardless of whether you live in my Tower or not." This time, it was Steve's turn to burst into derisive laughter, rolling his eyes at Tony when all that remained were chuckles.

"Really can't take a joke now, can you, Stark?" he asked, while Tony looked outraged. "Who's the old man now?" He was cut off by the sounds of swearing in Russian, all of them turning pale in fear.

"Shit," Tony whispered. "The Soviet Spouses got married." Bucky and Natasha slumped into the room, Pepper hurriedly arranging herself upright on the couch-she didn't want to see Natasha's wrath so early in the morning.

After a moment of silence, Natasha addressed the group with a tone filled with disgust. "This is wrong on so many levels." The look she gave to her wedding band was just as hate-filled, and she plopped onto Steve's lap. Steve looked relieved that the right woman was in his lap this time, although he did feel sort of bad...he _was _married to Pepper, after all...

"I'm pretty sure we had an affair back in the day, but I don't think we had an _affair_," Bucky proclaimed, looking extremely confused. "My head's killing me. We got any coffee?" All of them wordlessly pointed to the kitchen counter, and Bucky shuffled over, downing both in a single movement.

"Someone call the Russian government and tell them the Cold War's on," Tony sniggered. Natasha gave him a cold look over the rim of her coffee cup, but didn't make a move. "Can you just imagine it as a TV show? 'The Soviet Spouses', airing at 9/8 central. Oh, no, wait, 'World War II-the Sequel'. No, wait, I've got it-'Cold War Week'! Like Shark Week, but about you two! It'd be great for ratings!" He looked around the room, bright-eyed. "Eh? Eh?"

The only response that occurred was Natasha smacking him over the head. "How did any of this happen, anyways?" She had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I didn't get married to the wrong World War II idiot for nothing,"

Bruce sighed, beginning his tale for the third time that morning. "Well, Pepper and Steve had gotten married, Tony and Darcy had just gotten engaged, so the two of you kind of just wung the whole thing..."

* * *

"_Well, I'm fairly sure we're the only two left," Bucky shrugged, throwing down his mug of ale. For some reason, the alcohol seemed to really bite into he and Natasha tonight, for the room was spinning several shades of ugly. _

"_We always thought getting married was a shitty idea," Natasha chuckled darkly, slugging down her own mug. "It would only make sense if we were the only two bachelors left out of all of them." For some reason, she wasn't really jealous of the idea that Steve had gotten married to Pepper. Perhaps because she knew that Stark was marrying Darcy. _

"_Let's do it," Bucky suggested wildly. Natasha looked at him, surprised. "Let's get married. What the hell, we're already friends. And I'm pretty sure we were involved once." She shrugged-there was nothing lost out of it. Beat being married to any loser she'd meet down the road. _

"_Okay. Where's the nearest chapel?"_

* * *

"That's it?" Bucky asked to exaggerated groans from Tony. "That's it? I suggested we get married and she agreed?" He turned to Natasha. "I thought you would've been better about it, Natalia. At least tried to stab me once or something."

"I'm not getting sentimental with you," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "Like I said. You're the wrong World War II idiot. I only attempt to stab the likeable ones." Behind her, she heard Steve muttering something about 'never proposing to Nat, ever'.

"Good, because as soon as this marriage gets annulled, you two had better haul your asses down to the nearest altar," Bucky said, motioning to Steve and Natasha. "You two even have my blessing. Just make sure your honeymoon isn't too..._risque_." Steve went beyond red at that point, shifting uncomfortably. He and Natasha hadn't talked about marriage. Hell, they still lived on separate floors. There was no room for that, much less _marriage. _

"So that explains all of us," he said, his face contorting. "But that still doesn't explain..."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"...Clint and Agent Hill..."

"SOMEONE FIND ME A LAWYER!" Clint tore into the room, Hill straight on his heels. "I WANT AN ANNULMENT!" The two of them began stammering their sides of the story to the group, sentences overlapping like waves.

"I WOULD'VE BEEN ALRIGHT WITH ANYONE BUT BARTON-"

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS-"

"FURY IS GONNA KILL ME-"

"I would hate to be Barton right now," Natasha acknowledged, raising her coffee in a toast. "Fury would systematically scare all of his organs out of his body." Tony snorted into his own cup, and Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. "You think there's something worse than Fury?"

" 'Course there is," Tony answered simply. "Coulson. I'm just waiting for his shovel talk when it comes." At that point, Clint's phone rang, and he and Hill stopped screaming long enough for Clint to answer it.

"Barton." What followed seemed to be of the most fearful and chilling kind, as Clint went pale, his jaw slackened, and he started shaking, all in the span of thirty seconds. When he hung up, everyone looked at him, curious to see what had shaken him up so badly and quickly. He turned to Hill. "Let's go get an annulment."

* * *

"Never dreamed I'd be getting an annulment," Steve said as the city hall loomed in front of them. "Always thought divorces were for people who got married too quickly." Natasha was hugged to his side, tightly clasped.

"What do you mean, there's no getting triple annulments?" Pepper demanded, her hands planted firmly on the counter of the window. "I don't see why you can't just-what, you've never seen a triple annulment before? For God's sake, this is _Vegas_! Too many people get married to the wrong people all the time!"

"Look, lady," the man was saying. "You can't just waltz in here and demand that you get a triple annulment. These things take time. You've got to go through the entire legal process, and after that, there's a matter of getting consent from both parties, not to mention all of that paperwork. It takes a lot more than a day, you know-"

"Look, the amount of money and paperwork doesn't matter," Pepper hissed, smacking the counter. "I have the best lawyers in the world at my disposal. I can get what you need in a matter of minutes. Just let me get the annulment and no one needs to get hurt."

"Get hurt?" the man asked, laughing. "What makes you think any threats you try on me are gonna work? Whadya gonna do, hit me with your purse or something?" In an instant, Natasha was gone from Steve's side, pressing a knife through the slit and up against the man's stomach.

"No, but she knows about 37-39, sorry, Nat-ways to kill you with that knife alone, and half of them I'm pretty sure involve instantaneous death." Pepper answered flippantly, a cheerful grin on her face. "And she'll be happy to demonstrate them for you. All you need to do is ask."

"I'll get them annulled," the man squeaked. "Just let me get the papers." He was gone, leaving a silhouette in his presence. "Here you go, ma'am." Men seemed to be a lot nicer when they had knives pressed up against their stomachs, Natasha noted. It was nice.

"One more thing," Bruce said as the papers were signed, sealed, and delivered to the man with a flourish. "There's a giraffe that you guys sort of inherited..." Clint spit out the second coffee he'd picked up on the way to city hall.

"We got a WHAT?" He shook his head several times as if to clear it. "What do you mean, _we got a giraffe_? And what do you mean we 'sort of inherited it'? Either we got it or we didn't?" Bruce looked sheepish.

"Tony bought a giraffe after you all got married," he explained to Steve's facepalm. "He decided that he'd get something extravagant to celebrate the 'three ships finally sailing', and that thing happened to be a giraffe. It's named Geroge."

"George? Who was the idiot that named it GEORGE?!" Tony shouted, on the verge of screaming. "Why not name it something like Anthony Jr, or something? Has much more novelty to it than _George_. Plus, who ever thought of George the Giraffe?"

"Whoever had the eye for alliteration while drunk, I supposed," Pepper mused. Everyone looked at Steve-they knew from the first time he'd gotten drunk that not only was he truthful, he waxed poetry like there was no tomorrow.

Tony sighed. "Come on. Let's go get the giraff-I mean, _George._"

* * *

"Why would you not want the giraffe back, he's obviously a specimen-no, I'm not paying more to return it!" It was Tony's turn to argue, this time with the zoo owner from where they'd supposedly gotten the giraffe. "And you're a _zoo_! Why wouldn't you want a giraffe, anyways?"

"You told me not to give you a refund for the giraffe," the other man argued, spreading his hands wide. "Drunk or not, a deal is a deal. I'm saying that if you want to return it, it's going to cost you double of what you paid to buy it."

"What-when did I-_ugh_!" Tony scowled. "Fine. I'll pay you double for the damn giraffe." He shot a look to George, who looked crestfallen. "I don't know why the hell I bought you yesterday, but I sure have no qualms about giving you back!"

"I don't know, he's kind of cute," Darcy giggled, as Bucky lifted her onto George's back. "He'd be a lot better at getting Jane out of the lab than I am. Plus, we're housing and feeding a jungle animal. I think it's tax-deductible." She turned a pleading gaze on Tony. "Can we keep him? _Pleeeeeease? _He'd go great with Gullinkambi!"

"Who's Gullin-Gillumkom-kam-I give up," Tony sighed. "Who the hell is that?"

She glared at him. "Thor's penguin? The one that he kidnapped from the Bronx Zoo three weeks ago and never returned because it grew attached to Mew Mew?"

"Kambi?" Tony asked. "I thought his name was Kambi." When Darcy continued her puppy-dog eyes, he relented. "Fine. We'll keep George. I'm not responsible for any messes he makes in the labs, though."

"YES!" Darcy exclaimed. "Now I can finally tell that nerd intern to shovel shit!" Pepper looked at her. "I'm sorry, Pep, but he keeps looking at my ass. Now I can have him stoop to his own level." At that, she just shrugged. She'd totally pretend to look the other way when Darcy actually got around to it.

"Ugh," Tony said, clearly exhausted. He turned to Pepper. "I swear to God, Pep, let's just get hitched. We're already in Vegas. Just no Elvis impersonators. That's the one thing I draw a line at." Pepper looked unimpressed, crossing her arms and cocking a hip at him.

"Are you trying to propose to me, Anthony?" she asked in a bored voice. "Right after I helped you get an annulment from Darcy? Because if so, that's the crappiest excuse for a proposal I've ever seen. And I've seen Hunter botch his proposals many times."

Tony froze. His only plan for proposing had backfired. What was he supposed to do now?

"Well, better luck next time, punk," Bucky whapped him on the back. "Watch and learn." He turned to Darcy, who was still seated on top of George. "My darling Darcy, the love of my life, my light at the end of the tunnel," he began. "I've loved you but for little over a year, yet I feel that I've known you for ten, or even twenty years. I know already that you're the one I'm destined to spend the rest of my life with, and my brief marriage to Natalia only strengthened that assertion."

"Hey, I wasn't that bad of a wife," Natasha whispered to Steve, who only laughed. "Right?" He shook his head and pulled her closer.

Bucky was sinking down on one knee. "So, without further ado, Darcy Lewis, it is now that I ask your hand in marriage. Let us be married right here, right now." Darcy squealed, clapping her hands over her mouth. Pepper and Natasha watched with a slight sense of jealousy-Darcy was now to be vicariously lived through.

"Uh, not in my shop," the zoo owner said. "I'm not licensed to do that. You're best going down to City Hall if you want any documents filed." All of them burst out laughing at that, Bucky climbing onto George.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be happy to see us again,"

* * *

"_SHE DID WHAT?" _Jane squawked over the phone, Steve having to hold it an arm's length away from his ear so that he wouldn't lose an eardrum. "_Tell me she didn't just elope with Bucky. _Without me. I was going to be the maid of honor!" They were at the Mirage, Tony having took off while leaving the rest of them to try their luck at the blackjack tables.

"Trust me, I'm just as mad as you are," Steve chuckled placatingly, trying to calm her down. "I mean, I did get to be Buck's witness and all, but I'm sure it's not the same as being his best man at the wedding..." Jane let out a series of unintelligible shrieks that he gathered were probably supposed to be her cursing Darcy out before she returned to proper English.

"I'm going to _kill _her when she gets back," Jane vowed. "I'll catch you later, Steve. Don't get married to Natasha in Vegas. I want to go to at least _one _Avengers wedding." He sighed. Why was everyone talking about his marrying Natasha? It's not like it would be something that happened anytime soon..right?

"_Ladies and gentlemen, squirts of all ages!" _What was decidedly Tony's voice boomed through the speakers. Steve groaned. Just what was Tony up to now? _"Presenting the world-famous Tony Stark!" _Whatever this was, it wasn't going to turn out well. At all.

"I'll talk to you later, Jane. Give Thor my regards." Hanging up, Steve sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets just as the water jets in front of the casino started to go off. The rest of the Avengers hurried out, Clint and Natasha facepalming at the choreography. "I have no idea what he's doing."

"_If you all will so kindly look over there by the southwest spout, there is a lovely woman by the name of Pepper Potts," _ Tony's voice began, and Steve's heart sank as he figured out what was going on. _"I've known her for several years over, and I have absolutely no idea what I'd do without her. She makes up 12% of my life-and argument can be made for 15%-but I want to bring that up to 50%. Maybe even 100% if she'll let me." _Jets of water shot up, making the shape of a heart as the crowd watching 'oohed' and 'ahhed'. _"You told me earlier, Pep, that my proposal was one of the crappiest things I've ever seen. Well," _a real-life Tony said nervously as he touched down in front of Pepper, clad in an Iron Man suit, "_here's my chance at trying again. Virginia Potts, would you marry me?"_

"SAY YES!" someone in the crowd screamed.

"HE'S A KEEPER!"

"THE WORLD NEEDS MORE BOYS LIKE THIS!"

"Well, how can I say no?" Pepper asked, determinedly not shedding a tear. "After all, it was significantly better than the first one. Just one thing," she said as Tony began a victory dance. "I am _not _getting married to an Elvis impersonator."

"Hands in the air!" The group was flooded by spotlights as several police cars pulled up, beefy men with nightsticks stepping out. "You're under arrest for alteration of a secure system!" One of the officers grabbed Tony, bringing his hands behind his back. "Dammit, I'm going to need some stronger cuffs," he swore. "We're arresting _Iron Man, _for God's sake. Don't we have anything better than standard issue?" Another officer handed him a zip tie, which was yanked around Tony's wrists.

"And as your first act as Mrs. Stark, I'm going to need you to bail me out of jail!" Tony exclaimed as he was shoved into the police car. "I'm pretty sure they're taking me downtown!" As the car pulled away, he made sure to scream out the window, "I LOVE YOU, PEP!"

Pepper sighed. "Do we have enough cash on us?" Bruce nodded and handed over several hundreds, Darcy, Steve and Natasha contributing their own share. Clint just threw in an arrow. "Clint, I'm not sure that counts for anything."

"Trust me, when the bondsman sees it, it'll mean something," Clint affirmed. pushing it once more into Pepper's arms. "Now, go get him." As Pepper hailed a taxi, Natasha strode up to Steve, who was still facepalming.

"You don't-you wouldn't want to get married in Vegas, would you, Nat?" It felt slightly odd bringing up the subject of marriage, when they hadn't even discussed cohabitation, but it was better now than never, right?

"Hell, no," she snorted. "As badly as that happened, it was completely a one-time thing. Getting married in Vegas is for cheap people." Darcy glared at her-_she'd _gotten married in Vegas, and look how she'd turned out.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Darce."

* * *

"Anyone seen Hill?" Clint asked, walking into the kitchen with a large sheaf of paper clutched in his arms. For Steve and Natasha, the fact that Clint had paperwork was already surprising in itself. The fact that he'd finished it was something else entirely. "I can't find her anywhere, and if I can't find her

in ten minutes, I'm burning it."

"I haven't seen her in a few days, no," Steve answered, scratching in some numbers in his newspaper. "Have you seen Fury, either? I'm looking to give him a status report, but I haven't seen him, either."

"Now that I think about it, I haven't seen either of them in about a week," Natasha mused. "You think the two of them ran off together? After she got married to you, she seemed pretty shaky. Although _anyone _would be scared after getting married to Barton," she joked. Clint looked offended. "Face it, Barton. You scare every woman ever."

"Well, I don't think they eloped," Steve deadpanned in a voice that suggested quite the opposite. "After all, it's not like there would be plenty of people that would want to take out the heads of SHIELD together," Clint and Natasha raised an eyebrow. Steve had _really _been working on his sarcasm.

"Well, you're not wrong,"

All three of them turned towards the elevator to see Fury and Hill, arm in arm. The two of them together was nothing new, but so close...An awkward silence reigned as both parties stared at each other, not really sure what to say. It was Clint who broke it first, cracking a comment that was distasteful enough to be offensive.

"So. I see we've eloped. I think it means that May wins the pool. I'll check."

"YOU DID WHAT?"

Pepper had come into the room at the same time Clint had made the comment, and she and Natasha shrieked in unison, startling HIll. "YOU ELOPED WITH FURY?" Steve chuckled and hid his face behind the newspaper. Fury was about to discover why no one messed with Pepper and Natasha together.

"Is it a boy or a girl, Hill? Or twins? Because you know, with Romanoff and Rogers not making babies anytime soon, I think it's high time that we got some tiny souls around here. Gotta start rebuilding SHIELD somehow, right? After all, there aren't a lot of people to trust-" Clint gulped audibly as Natasha handed Hill a knife, taking off as she chased after him surprisingly quickly.

"Okay, now that Hill's out of the room, here's what's going to happen." Natasha produced another knife from who knew where, holding it to Fury's throat. "If the thought of hurting her even _crosses _your mind, I'll be ready to kill you before you're even done with that train of thought. Got it? And yes, I don't mind threatening my boss," she said cheerfully. "Pepper will just rehire me if I get fired, right?"

Somewhere deep in the recesses of the Tower, Tony's high-pitched scream could be heard bouncing off the walls of the lab. Pepper smiled sweetly at Natasha, who twisted the knife a little. "Of course, Nat. Maybe I'll even get you a raise this time around."

"Yes, Agent Romanoff." Fury croaked, going pale for the first time in his life. Natasha let up her knife, sheathing it once more.

"Glad we understand each other."

* * *

"Clint, we need to talk," Steve's voice startled Clint out of his morning cup of coffee, and its somber tone woke him up faster than any caffeine. "It's about Natasha." Clint turned to him, his coffee in his hands. Was he planning on breaking up with her? Because if so, it really was nice of him to tell Clint beforehand, so Clint could sharpen his arrows.

"What's up, Cap?" he asked nonchalantly, not wanting to let his suspicions show. Steve read him like an open book anyways, and laughed. "You can't blame me for thinking the worst. I'm automatically suspicious of my sister's boyfriends."

"Even if they want to propose to their girlfriends?" Even _that _question stopped Clint short, and he nearly dropped his mug in shock. Steve was standing at the corner of the kitchen island, sheepishly mixing some batter together. "I'd like to ask for your blessing," he explained. "You're the closest thing Natasha has to a living relative, and..well, it's the way I was raised."

"Of course," Clint croaked, his throat beginning to clog with emotion. "Marry her. She needs you, Steve. As much as you need her. Just don't hurt her," he said, pointing a finger. "I still have an arrow with your name on it, Rogers."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, Clint," Steve answered honestly, holding out his hand to shake. Clint took it, feeling tears well up in his eyes once more. "Ah-do you want something for your allergies?" Clint grinned ruefully, and Steve left the room, whistling a jaunty tune. "Oh, and one more thing-get ready to fly to Paris," he said. "I want you to be her witness."

"Nat, get up," Natasha was softly but insistently shaken awake by Steve, and she stirred, curling into herself into an effort to get more sleep. "I'm taking you to Paris." Natasha shook her head, burrowing into the blankets once more. The word _Paris _stuck in her head, but quickly drifted out in a haze of sleep. "Fine. I'll carry you." The blankets were wrapped around her as Steve lifted her out of bed, effortlessly carrying her through the hallways.

Time seemed to pass in a haze as Natasha fell back asleep. She vaguely remembered being loaded onto a QuinJet, Steve piloting it through the clouds, and being settled onto a mattress too soft for her own good, truly falling into a deep sleep for the last time.

"Naaaaaat..."

She awoke to soft lighting above her head, Steve reading a book in the armchair to her right. "Good to see you're awake," he said, a smile gracing his face. Nat gave him a melty smile, still softened at the edges from her long day of sleep. "I took the liberty of laying out your dress," he said, gesturing to the bed next to him. "We have reservations at the Eiffel Tower at eight."

"Eiffel Tower?" she asked sleepily. "Are we in Paris?" He nodded, and suddenly everything made sense. The QuinJet. The soft lighting. The too-soft bed. "What...what are we doing here?" Steve's innocent smile turned into a mysterious grin, pulling at her sense of curiosity.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

* * *

"I still can't believe you managed to get these," Natasha admitted some time later, delicately consuming a spoonful of caviar. "These reservations are at _least _six months in the making." Not that she was complaining-Steve had been nothing but a gentleman the entire night, but somehow still conserving some of the new personality she'd given him since they'd started dating.

"Things happen when you drop Pepper's name and special circumstances," he answered, toasting her with his glass of wine. "Sometimes, it's not such a bad thing to live in the Tower. Gets you all sorts of things."

"Trust me, I know," Natasha snorted, taking a sip of her own wine. "Clint's tried everything-getting into movies, free purchases, getting a dog...none of it's worked. I've even tried getting to go mini golfing. It didn't turn out so well." She raised an eyebrow at him. "So, you going to tell me what 'special circumstances' required dropping Pepper's name?"

"Well..." She didn't miss how Steve covertly glanced around before turning back to her, taking a deep breath and giving her a winning smile. "I know we didn't talk about getting married much," he began. "But after seeing you getting married to Buck and me getting married to Pepper, I realized that I really, really wanted that feeling of marriage. And I don't think there's anyone else I'd rather share it with than you." He exhaled gustily and took her hand. "You've saved my life more times than I can count," Steve told her quietly. "You've seen me at my worst and picked me up from it. There are nights when it pains me that you're not there. I need you. It's plain and simple. You're my everything, Natasha." With his other hand, he took a velvet box out of his pocket. "I humbly ask you a simple question in return: Will you be mine forever?"

"I don't think I could survive the rest of my life without you," Natasha admitted, keeping her eyes on the ring. Steve slid it onto her finger, kissing her hand. She looked up at him, her incredulity threatening to burst. "I don't have much to give, but I promise to give you whatever I've got."

"Don't you realize that what you've given me is already more than enough?" Steve asked, standing up and taking her in his arms. The string quartet struck up a slow tune in the background, the both of them beginning to waltz. "Let's get married," he suggested, as Natasha's eyebrow quirked in surprise.

"Now?"

"No better place than Paris," he said ruefully, making her laugh. "And look, that guy over there _conveniently _has a marriage license. I think we could get married right here and now." She looked at him mock-accusingly, mischief in his face.

"You planned this, didn't you, Rogers?" she asked. "You flew me to Paris so that you could propose _and _get married." In all honesty, she was touched-she didn't think he'd been paying attention when she'd said that she'd dreamed of getting married in Paris, but here he was, defying expectations once more. "I can't believe you're mine."

"Is that a yes?" he asked. "Are we getting married now?" He hoped she said yes. He and Pepper had paid a lot for the the clerk. She nodded excitedly, and Steve signaled to the man. Two men lifted an arch over to where they were standing, and they clasped hands under it.

"The witnesses, please," the clerk said, and two figures stepped out of the shadows.

"Clint? Bucky?" Natasha's mouth dropped open. Clint gave her a jaunty and cheerful wave, while Bucky just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She turned to Steve, who was wearing an expression akin to pride on his face. "You asked Clint to be our witness?"

"Of course I did," he responded, tucking a stray curl out of her face. "He's the only other man who means everything to you, Nat. How could I not?" She grabbed onto him tightly, pouring everything she wanted to say into the physical contact.

"Old man asked for my blessing," Clint told her, and Natasha very nearly burst into tears right then and there. Steve patted her on the back reassuringly before easing her off of him, the clerk sniffling sentimentally before proceeding.

"Do you have your vows, Mr. Rogers?" Steve nodded, closing his eyes for a brief second before starting.

"We're all just a little bit broken," he began, and Natasha stifled a snort at that. "Okay, so some of us are really broken. But that's what makes us beautiful," he said, smiling beautifically. "We have the ability to put each other back together. I promise to help you every step of the way, wherever that may be, no matter how hard it gets. I promise to never leave your side, and always lift you up when you need it." He winked. "I'm never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you-"

"Steven Grant Rogers, are you Rickrolling me?" The entire crowd burst out into laughter, Bucky especially still chortling as it died down.

"Bucky told me to do it!" he protested to the crowd, Natasha affectionately glaring at him, a smirk rising up one side of her face. "I wouldn't have done it on my own!"

"Ms. Romanoff, your vows?"

"Well, I don't have anything better than a Rickroll," she declared saucily, her sharp words softened by the emotional intensity of the moment. "But I've got a lot to pile on," she said, growing serious. "I've got a lot of baggage that I'm surprised you're willing to take on with you. I'll always be glad for it. I promise to be yours," she told him. "I promise to love you with everything I've got, even though it might not be much at times. I promise to walk with you through the thick and thin, and I can't promise to be what you want, but I can promise to be what you need." Tears were starting in Steve's eyes by the time she finished, and he grasped her hand tightly, unable to kiss her until told to.

"Mr. Rogers, do you take Ms. Romanoff to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do,"

"And Ms. Romanoff, do you take Mr. Rogers in holy matrimony?"

"I do."

"Then by the power vested in me, with the people of Paris as my witness, I now pronounce you husband and wife." the clerk said. "You may now kiss the bride."

Steve swept Natasha into an old-fashioned kiss while the crowd cheered, Clint and Bucky bursting into hoots. When they let up, he held Natasha in his arms, her head close to his chest. As everyone lined up to sign the paperwork, they clung to each other, smiling like a couple of newlyweds.

This was one marriage that they intended to keep.

* * *

"WHAT IS THIS?" Tony fumed as he read the headlines the next morning. "WHY WAS I NOT PRIVY TO A ROMANOGERS WEDDING?" He whirled around at Clint and Bucky, who were smirking like there was no tomorrow. "WHY WASN'T I INVITED?"

"Uh..." Bucky put a finger against his chin, pretending to think loudly. "Because you suck?"

* * *

**Read? Review? Please? **

**This week's icebreaker (just because everyone's getting married!): Where is your ideal place to get married (if at all), and why? My answer would _probably _be never, but if I were...yup. Not happening. xD**

**Also, for those who know about the twin-verse: back in Callie and Nicky's kidnapping, Callie really did have a close relationship with Bobbi. So much, in fact, that I've been thinking about starting a series for their own one-shots! What do you guys think?**

**"And another thing!" (-Hunter) I'm now on tumblr! It would mean a lot to me if you guys followed my blog (it's not much right now, but it'll grow), and I take prompts there too! :D My blog handle is the same name as FF, independentalto :)**


	48. Bad Blood

**WARNING: there is blood. And _lots _of it. **

**All of you guys picked such romantic places to get married! South of France? England? Norway? An old city? (I'm looking at rollaroclintasha here, I ACTUALLY WANT TO GET MARRIED NOW. I'm gonna lose that bet to my best friend!) There was a bag of Doritos from two weeks ago, it's yours! :D**

**Shoutout to Alva Moondancer for following!**

* * *

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON BEFORE I DIE BECAUSE I AM FUCKING _BLEEDING _ALL OVER EVERYTHING AND I WOKE UP IN A POOL OF MY BLOOD AND IT IS TOO FUCKING EARLY FOR THIS-oh, no one's here." Tony skidded into the room, his shorts covered in blood, only to find no one there. "Damn. I have to repeat that all over again?" He rubbed his throat. "That's hell on the vocal cords." He tore out of the room once more. "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON HERE SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO MY WHY I'M BLEEDING OUT OF MY ASS BEFORE I BLEED OUT AND DIE IN A POOL OF MY OWN BLOOD?"

* * *

"For the love of God." Clint stirred, wrinkling his nose when a faint metallic smell could be detected in the air. "Nat, did you kill someone in here again? Or have you started PMSing?" He opened his eyes to see Natasha regarding him with a strange look, frowning at their sheets.

"Neither," she said slowly. "I think _you're _the one that's lying in a pool of their own blood." She'd scooted several inches away from the stain, shifting uncomfortably. "And I think I've grown a boner."

"Go take a cold shower," he groused out. Clint's eyes popped open wide as the _other _half of Natasha's sentence washed over him. "I'm lying in _WHAT_?" But by then, Natasha had already waddled towards the bathroom, her gait reminiscent of when she'd been pregnant.

"Dad!" Callie ran into the room, looking pale and disturbed. "Nicky's passed out in a pool of his own blood and I...I..." Her voice lowered to a whisper and she looked around, as if making sure no one was listening. "...I found something between my legs. And _no, _I didn't leave in a tampon overnight!" she insisted defiantly before Clint could protest. She wrinkled her nose and looked at the sheets. "Did Mom start her period again?"

"Apparently, we've gained your father and brother's genitals," Natasha deadpanned as she emerged from the shower, wearing an extremely baggy pair of sweatpants. "And it seems they've both gained a menstrual cycle."

"You mean-you mean I have a-" As much as thirteen-year-old Callie had learned from her relatives, she still wasn't _totally _comfortable with all of the crude humor they dropped. "Do I have to say it? Uncle Steve smacks Uncle Tony every time he says it."

"As he should," Natasha smirked, pulling on an oversized hoodie. "Come on. Let's go get your brother before he's traumatized any more." She looked towards Clint. "Although we should probably help your father first..."

"How are you not fazed by this?" Clint asked in disbelief, not daring to get up. He'd heard the curses Natasha had let out during _her _times, and had no desire to repeat them, thank you very much. "I have woken up in enough blood to make it look like I bled out, for god's sake!"

"But you didn't," Natasha said, coming over to one side of the bed. "Get on the other side of your father," she said to Callie, reaching over for one of Clint's arms. "On the count of three, we're going to heave him out. Ready?" Callie nodded. "One...two..._three_." Together, the two of them wrenched him into a sitting position, much to his protests.

For several minutes, there was nothing but the sound of Clint swearing in what was presumably every language he knew as a rush of liquid streamed downward, staining the mattress a nice crimson red. Natasha looked at the mattress, to Clint, and back to the mattress again. "We're going to have to requisition a new one."

"Amen," Clint echoed weakly, staggering off of the bed. "I don't think I'm ever going to see this mattress the same way again." Holding his head in his hands, he staggered to the shower, leaving a trail of blood drops on the way to the bathroom.

Callie stared at the trail. "I think you wanna requisition a new apartment. Or at least ask Aunt Pepper for hella bleach." Natasha stared at her. "What? Uncle Tony has crude humor. Aunt Skye just has rude humor. I like her better."

* * *

It _had _to be Loki. There was really no other option. Unless Thor had suddenly felt like changing all of their genders; and even then, Steve wasn't sure he was aware of Midgardian nature problems. He sighed as he reached the living room only to find nothing but a small puddle of blood. It seemed like someone (most likely Tony) had already been into the living room, and he went off to find a mop and bleach. He wasn't going to skid in Tony's blood.

"CAPTAIN ROGERS! I AM WHOLLY CONFUSED AS TO WHAT IS TRANSPIRING!" Thor thundered into the room, holding his nether parts extremely gingerly. "It seems I have suffered a wound in the lower area during the night!" he stage-whispered, jerking his head downwards. "I have tried what I could, yet it would not cease!"

"I think I have an inkling what's going on," Steve sighed, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "Let's call a team meeting, though. I have the feeling you and I aren't the only ones suffering through this. Raised by a nurse," he said as Thor looked at him confusedly, trying to figure out why he wasn't stained. "She taught me everything I needed to know. AVENGERS-"

"ASSEMBLE!" Natasha dove in behind him, rolling into a somersault before standing back up cheerily. "AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!" Steve gave her a deadpan look as she smirked, Callie dropping in through the nearest vent.

"'Sup, Uncle Steve?" He side-eyed her as she landed in a Natasha-esque crouch, wondering why Tony had ever let Clint and Natasha reproduce in his Tower anyways. "Why aren't you screaming about blood and everything?"

"Yeah, Capsicle, I want to know the same thing," Tony muttered, waddling in with what appeared to be an adult diaper wrapped around his waist. Steve, Thor and Natasha all had to turn away to hide their snickers; Callie wasn't as sympathetic, as she burst into laughter and fell to the ground. Tony glowered at her. "Not funny, Calzone. I'll have you know I'll take this over having a..._you know_ any day," He glanced nervously at Steve, not wanting to get smacked over the head.

"Where's Clint?" Steve asked Natasha, who was mockingly doing cheerleading moves in the background. "And, on second thought," he added to Callie, who was shifting uncomfortably-he could only assume it was because of the package she'd gained-and asked, "where's Nicky?"

"Currently bowled over the toilet with an awful case of the cramps," Clint answered, shuffling in. He too was wearing an adult diaper, and standing next to Tony was too much to bear. Thor and Natasha burst into laughter, with Callie whipping out her phone to snap a picture.

"I gotta send this to Uncle Phil!" she crowed, her fingers already flying over the screen. "He'll die when he sees this!" Tony and Clint groaned in unison: when Callie meant 'send to one member of the Bus team', she meant 'send to the entire Bus team'.

**Calzone: **Uncle Phil, do you have any baby bottles left? Because I think we need two industrial sized-ones...

When she didn't get an immediate response, she shrugged, pocketing her phone. The Bus team was probably on the opposite end of the world right now. Didn't do any good to stare at her phone. "So, Uncle Steve, what's going on?" she asked cheerily, interrupting the argument as to who looked like a bigger baby.

"Loki switched our genders," Steve sighed. The entire group shut up at that, Tony and Clint smacking their heads especially. "He also probably read up on gender-problems, so that might explain why we all have periods and boners."

"LOKI!" Thor roared, raising his hammer towards the ceiling. "I DEMAND YOU SHOW YOURSELF AT ONCE!" Loki immediately appeared, his face nearly purple from laughing so hard. "What do you find so amusing, brother?" he demanded.

Loki was still laughing so hard, he could only point at Clint and Tony. The both of them looked extremely affronted, Clint even going so far as to pout and cross his arms. "I was not aware grown men used swaddling!"

"Can you switch us back or not?" Natasha demanded, pulling out her own Glock from thin air. At that, Loki sobered, his face going back to its normal pale before he straightened up. Her aim never wavered, and he could see Callie's hand itching towards her belt. Two Bartons with weapons trained on him wouldn't turn out well.

"Unfortunately, the spell I designed is made to last for a week," he said, sounding slightly regretful. Callie rolled her eyes in the background. There was no way Loki would give an actually remorseful apology. "It is the normal menstrual cycle for a woman, therefore, it is a week long." Natasha snorted-thank goodness he'd only looked up the average-her lasted for a week and a half, sometimes two weeks.

"A WEEK?" Clint shrieked. "I HAVE TO WEAR A DIAPER FOR A WEEK?" He turned to Callie in horror. "Did it really take you a week to go through it the first time it happened?" The both of them turned pensive, flashing back to the first time Callie's period had arrived.

* * *

"_Sir, I believe it is a feminine problem Miss Callie is experiencing," JARVIS had chimed in, a good five minutes after Clint could have used it. "It is perhaps best to consult a female on this situation. I have amassed a list of numbers that can be consulted, which include Miss Callie's physician, Miss Romanoff, and Miss Potts." _

"_SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" Callie had screamed from the toilet, the sound splintering clearly from the bathroom. She'd been in there for a good ten minutes, having run in there with her arms clutched to her stomach. _

"_What do you mean, Cals?" Clint asked, panicked. Natasha had told him specifically not to call him, her mission had required radio silence-and he didn't feel comfortable calling Callie's physician, nor Pepper. He didn't need it getting back to Tony that he was incapable of taking care of his own daughter. "I don't know who to call!"_

_Callie's answer rang loud and clear. "CALL AUNT BOBBI!" It hadn't occurred to Clint to call anyone on the Bus team, let alone his daughter's SO. He automatically snatched his phone out of his pocket, hitting 3 on speed dial. _

_Skye had picked up. "'Sup, Birdman? Stark being an asshole again?"_

"_Skye, I need Bobbi. This is as important as it's getting." When Skye's reply sounded hesitant, Clint's tension went up a few notches. "I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S-" He had to take a moment to remember his daughter was on the other side of that bathroom door. "I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S DOING THE FRICKLE-FRACKLE WITH HUNTER, I NEED HER NOW!" _

"_BARBARA MORSE, GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!" _

_Callie had started crying at this point, and it tugged at Clint's heartstrings not to be able to go in and comfort his daughter. Why, oh why did it have to be __today__, of all days? The __one __day Natasha had chosen to go on a mission, the __one__ day Pepper had chosen to take Nicky out, the __one__ day Bruce had decided to go into the Bronx and do volunteer work?_

"_Clinton Francis Barton, this had better be good, because if it isn't, I will ensure that you never walk again." As an answer, Clint put Bobbi on speakerphone and cracked open the bathroom door, letting Callie's wails speak for themselves. _

"_Auntie Bobbi? Is that you?" Callie asked weakly. Clint heard a slight hitch of breath and grinned, knowing he'd hit his mark. _

"_Chem. Are you alright?"_

"_My stomach hurts and I'm bleeding," Callie cried, clutching her stomach and collapsing into sobs once more. "Jarvie said that it was a women's problem and Dad's the only one home and he has no idea what to do and __please, Auntie Bobbi, help." _

"_I'll be right over," There was the distinct sound of a phone hanging up, and Callie sobbed a bit more, tearing Clint's heart right in half._

* * *

"Yeah, it was a week," Callie answered. "Hell of a week for all concerned." Clint had been on the verge of freaking out on Bobbi when she'd arrived, carrying two packages in her arms. "I think Mom almost killed you when she got back."

"I almost killed Grandpa Fury," Natasha huffed. "Having to miss your daughter's first period and having your best friend help her through it instead? Not cool for a milestone. Especially for a bust of a mission."

"THAT DOESN'T ANSWER ANYTHING!" Tony exclaimed. "I HAVE TO WEAR A DIAPER FOR A WEEK! HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO GO OUT?" He looked visibly upset at the prospect of not being able to go out for a week, despite never leaving the Tower on a normal basis.

"Good news, you won't have to wear a diaper for a week," Bruce emerged with several boxes in his arms, not much unlike, Clint noted, the ones Bobbi had been holding when she'd come to help Callie. "I've got some tapes and tampons. Everyone that's got a period, to the lab." Clint, Tony, Steve and Thor followed them, drops of blood hitting the floor from Thor's trousers.

When they were the only two left, Natasha looked at Callie. "I think we should get a diaper on your brother and drop him off at the lab. I don't need him hogging the toilet for the whole week." Callie's phone _pinged _at that moment, and she swiped open the text, her mouth dropping open.

_**You **__named this conversation "Bird? Plane? Bus?!"_

**Bio (Aunt Bobbi): **We've got a code red.

**Mama Mel (Aunt May): **The red is literally everywhere.

**Breaking Free (Aunt Skye): **Dripping, gushing red.

**Crumpet (Aunt Jemma): **I have no idea how to explain this, but...

**Tea (Uncle Fitz): **...somehow it's happening. Someone explain what's happening?

**Tea (Uncle Fitz): **ANYONE?

**Tea (Uncle Fitz): **Everything _hurts..._

**Calzone: **Uhh...all the women have men's thingies and all the men have PMS?

**Robin Hood (Uncle Lance): **WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU JUST...OH, BLOODY...I give up.

**Calzone: **Uncle Steve thinks it's Loki's work. Hang on.

"UNCLE TONY!" she hollered through a vent, knowing they would all be listening. "CAN UNCLE PHIL AND THE TEAM COME TO STAY FOR THE WEEK?"

"SURE" was the screamed reply, and Callie returned to her texting.

**Calzone: **Uncle Tony says you guys can come stay for the week while everyone figures out this whole PMS thing.

**Captain Hook (Uncle Phil): **Oh, thank God. I really don't want to walk around with blood all over the floors all week.

**Captain Hook (Uncle Phil): **No, Skye, not even if you think it looks cool.

**Breaking Free (Aunt Skye): **But AC!

**Captain Hook (Uncle Phil): **NO.

**Mama Mel (Aunt May): **We're on our way.

* * *

"_Please _tell me Barton and Stark are still in diapers," Skye said fervently as the Bus team arrived in the Tower, half of them waddling and the other with their legs spread apart. Fitz immediately made a dash for the bathroom, Simmons following him worriedly. "It would almost make having a boner worth it."

"Great, more men with periods," Bruce said dryly as he appeared in the room. "Instructions in the lab. Follow me." Hunter looked outraged at having to follow any sort of instruction, but went after Coulson anyways.

"So is it Loki that decided we'd all become men?" May quipped dryly, already rummaging through the fridge for some good. "Because if so, I'd like to kick his intergalactic ass into next century. Millennium, if I can help it." Bobbi spread herself out on the couch, patting the seat next to her so that Callie could burrow in. If there was one good thing about her short height gave her, it was being able to cuddle with tall people.

"Poor Nicky," Callie sighed. "He's got the worst cramps." Bobbi laughed at that, throwing an arm around her rookie-in-training.

"I'd be a little more sympathetic towards Nicky if I hadn't had to listen to _Fitz complaining the whole damn way,_" Skye griped, having caught a beer from May. "I had no idea there were so many ways you could curse out your period. _In Scottish_." She cracked it open and chugged it down, sighing as it hit her throat. "I think he even compared it to haggis once."

Just then, Simmons emerged, looking haggled. "Did we bring Harold?" May, Bobbi and Skye exchanged glances. "You know. Harold?" When all she received were blank stares, she sighed. "Alright, _fine_. The stuffed monkey I won Fitz last year at the carnival where things _may or may not _have gone past platonic."

"He's on the Bus," Bobbi answered sweetly. She tossed Simmons a set of keys. "Make sure you lock up when you're done." As Simmons left, blushing madly, Skye burst into laughter. May cracked a small smile.

"Wait, what happened to Tea and Crumpet?" Callie demanded, using FitzSimmons' nicknames instead of referring to them as one. "What happened at the carnival last year? And why'd you make Aunt Jemma admit that?"

"She still won't admit that she's meant for Fitz," Skye said, shaking her head. "Last year at the carnival, she won him a stuffed monkey, and the carnie said Jem had to kiss Fitz before he'd give her the stuffed animal...and she did," Callie's blue eyes went wide. "Both of them like to pretend it didn't happen."

Simmons marched back into the building with Harold in her arms, she studiously avoided the gazes of the rest of the women, still blushing madly. Skye waved at Harold as she passed, and smirked when Simmons held Harold a little tighter in her arms, the blue monkey turning its face away from the rest of them.

"May, how's the table looking?" Bobbi asked, shooting a look towards the woman in question. "Anyone been shot out yet?" May grabbed for her phone, opening her calendar. "There's a bet around SHIELD on when Tea and Crumpet is finally going to become a meal," she explained to Callie.

"I want in on the bet!"

"Sorry, Calzone, you're too young," May said, not meanly, as she looked through her list. "I don't think your mother would like it very much if you were betting on other people's relationships. Did she ever tell you there was a bet going around on her and your father?"

"I lost fifty bucks on that," Bobbi scowled, and Callie laughed. "It's true! Coulson laughed at me for three weeks." She glared at May. "To avoid that again, let's look at the standings. Who's looking good at the moment?"

"Well, you're out again," May answered, and Bobbi groaned loudly, her head hitting the back of the couch. Callie hugged her in an attempt to comfort, and was brought closer to her SO as a result. "Shouldn't have bet that hundred," was all she answered. "Let's see, Skye, you're out next week, and Hunter got shot the week before...at this rate, I think Romanoff's going to win."

"I'm _so _betting long term on you and Phil," Bobbi muttered, low enough for Callie to hear, and she perked her head up.

"Can I bet on that one?"

* * *

"I'm not sure I can take much more of this," Coulson griped as the woman went into what felt like the fiftieth demonstration of how to put in a tampon. "I thought all you had to do was stick it in!" He was confusedly holding a tampon in his right hand, fighting the urge to scratch his head with the left. It wouldn't do any _more _good to release more blood with the hook attachment he had on.

"Isn't that what we all thought?" Hunter shot back, more venom in his tone than he liked. "Just ram the bloody thing in, and yank it out when we were done? Wow," he said when he realized he'd just talked back, "Bob must be doing this PMS thing all the time,"

"If she were here, she'd kill you for that," Mack snorted. He looked down. "I think it's time for a trip to the bathroom." All of the guys turned to look at him-this was his third trip in two hours. "I'm gonna be the guy who kills Loki."

"Alright, Mack, you know what to do," Bruce said. "Just remember what the video told you and you're gonna be okay." Mack nodded, standing up awkwardly and waddling towards the bathroom. "Now," Bruce said as he resumed the video to many groans. "Anyone seen Fitz?"

"He went off with Aunt Jemma as soon as they got here," Nicky groaned from the corner of the room, where he was still curled up in a giant diaper. "She said something about a stuffed monkey and platonic?" He looked at Bruce. "Uncle Bruce, do you have any more Super Tylenol?" Bruce frowned at him.

"You know, Nicky, that's only for people that burn through regular Tylenol too fast," he said. "You haven't shown any signs of your mother's serum yet, so I don't think it's in your best interest to have some," NIcky's face fell.

"But everything _hurts,_" he complained. "Every second there's a stab of pain going downwards and I feel extra full and I don't wanna get up and I think I have chest pain and my back hurts!" Simmons came into the room, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You sound just like Fitz," she commented mildly. "He's said the same thing. Just with more 'bloody hell's mixed in." She turned to Bruce. "Can I get some of that extra-strength Acetaminophen? I think it'll ease up his cramps a little bit, reduce the draining feeling. If anything, it should knock him out and then I can hear him stop complaining." Bruce nodded, handing over the bottle of Super Tylenol.

"Hey!" Nicky shouted. "Uncle Fitz is mortal, why does _he _get the Super Tylenol?" Bruce sighed; he'd clearly lost this game. Seeing the look on his face, Simmons sighed as well, pouring a tablet out of the can and handing it to him.

"You're only getting one because of your body weight," she said, filling a glass of water and handing it to him. Nicky took it thankfully, actually sighing in relief. "Not so fun now, being a girl, huh? Didn't think about this part when you asked to be one, I don't think."

"I never said that!" Nicky yelped as every male's head swivelled to him. "Aunt Jemma's making things up!" Tony was actually gaping at the thought that Nicky had considered giving up his masculinity at one point.

"You'd trade a pain-free life for _this?_" he asked in horror. "Kid, have you gone mental? Do I need you to go see Garner? Please don't, I hate the man," was muttered as an afterthought. "Well, actually, at this point, not really, seeing as he's not stuck with Satan's waterfall!"

"Aunt Jemma's making things up!" Nicky insisted. "I swear I never asked her if I could be a girl!" Simmons winked as she left the lab with the bottle of Super Tylenol, effectively throwing Nicky to the sharks.

"How are we enjoying this little...bonding session?" Loki asked as he dropped through a vent. Compared to the others, he looked relatively pain and stain free. "Not so easy being a woman now, it is?"

"Bloody hell, I never want to do this again," Hunter spat. "So bugger off, you twat, before I decide that it's perfectly okay to murder you." From the other corner of the room, Coulson was waving a hook attachment. "And Coulson'll help me."

"No wonder he and Bobbi are so explosive," Clint muttered to Steve. "Poisonous personalities, poisonous relationships. And also probably with some baking soda and vinegar mixed in."

Steve gave him a look. "Clint, those are only used in kids' science experiments."

"I'm on my period, I'm a little loopy," Clint retorted, rolling his eyes. "It's a viable excuse. Tasha uses it once about every four weeks whenever she forgets to do something." He leaned back in his chair, groaning at the change in position. "Ugh. All I want to do is sleep. But I can't sleep, you know?" He gestured with his hands. "Whenever I try to sleep, everything just keeps piling up!"

"You guys think you've got the hang of it?" Bruce asked, stopping what must've been the fiftieth replay of the video. "Does anyone need a final replay?" No one dared to answer, lest they risk the wrath of the rest of the group. "Good, 'cause I'm sick of this video. Remember, guys," he said as everyone got up, swearing as the blood flowed downwards. "Apples and chocolate. And make sure you go every three hours."

* * *

"Glad to see you guys are alive," Natasha teased as the men emerged. "We thought Bruce had massacred you guys for your blood. Speaking of which, Stark, you need to talk to your waste disposer. We don't need the wrong people getting their hands on super-soldier blood, even if it was part of a shedding lining."

"How are you guys looking so comfortable?" Tony griped, holding his stomach. "We are in _constant pain _over here, and you women are just kicking back like nothing's wrong at all!" She tossed him a bar of chocolate.

"That's because nothing _is _wrong, Stark," she retorted, leaning back with an audible sigh of comfort. "We don't have to deal with Satan's waterfall. All we have to do is sit around and act like assholes like you do. Get me a sandwich, will you? And make sure you leave off the pickles." When Tony opened his mouth to protest, she glared at him. "_Now._"

"How's Nicky?" Callie asked her mother, glancing curiously at her. "Oh, and Mom? Why was there a bet between all of SHIELD for when you and Dad would get together?" Natasha shot a glare to May, who shrugged.

"She asked. Plus, I beat Coulson by a day. It's not something I _won't _brag about." She waved her phone at Natasha. "I think you've got a shot at winning the pool this time around,"

"_Finally,_" Natasha rolled her eyes. "I've lost every other pool since. _No one _will shut up about the time I lost the Huntingbird pool." May and Bobbi shot her a knowing look, and she rolled her eyes. "I am never betting two hundred again."

"It was completely your fault you bet two hundred while drunk, May, don't act like-" Bobbi was cut off by Coulson's phone ringing, and they all exchanged glances, daring each other to pick it up. It was Steve who rolled his eyes and grabbed it (his flow had been surprisingly light), answering with a pinched 'Hello?'

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO, COULSON?"

Steve almost hurled the phone at the wall from the loud exclamation that emanated from the phone, saving it at the last minute from a very ugly death. He looked incredulously at Coulson, who looked just as surprised as he felt. "Who's that?"

"Ward," Coulson answered, gently taking the phone from him. "What do you want?" Silently, he gestured to Tony to put the Tower on lockdown, and for his agents to suit up. Hunter and Mack gave him looks of disbelief-they were already bleeding out of one place, and now they had to risk bleeding out of another?

"I want to know _what the hell you did to me,_" Ward could be heard threatening from the other line, and this time the curiosity was genuine as Coulson replied,

"What do you mean?"

"OF COURSE YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, COULSON!" Coulson really did drop the phone this time, letting it clatter to the ground before Skye scooped it up, glaring at it in disdain. "I'M BLEEDING! OUT OF MY ASS! I'M GOING TO ASK YOU AGAIN-_WHAT. DID. YOU DO?_"

It was Clint who put it together first, nearly falling over from laughter as everyone else slowly began to comprehend what had happened. "What the hell have you and your little agents, done, Coulson? I swear, when I find you I won't hesitate to kill you." Ward's threat wasn't lost on any of them, but that didn't make the whole thing any less funny.

"It's not something we can control, Ward," Skye chortled, struggling to keep her hold on the phone. "It wasn't us this time. You'd have to ask a certain Asgardian god about it." There was a moment of silence before Ward abruptly hung up, and they all burst out laughing once more. "Loki, get your ass down here!"

"You summoned me?" Loki asked in a bored voice, dropping from the vents. "I daresay this is to congratulate me on my efforts to make the man bleed. In any case, you all are most welcome. It was almost enjoyable."

"Can you make it permanent?" Skye asked eagerly, and everyone stopped. Giving Grant Ward a period was evil. That'd they admit. But making him bleed for _life_... "Of course, there _is _the obligatory 'you loose three pints of blood you're out', and I really don't want him dead before I can shoot him, so...cramps and ugly bleeding? Can you do that?" Her puppy-dog eyes had taken form, and she put them into full effect. "Please, Loki, please?"

"Oh, Ward's totally got it coming to him," Mack whispered. "No one can say no to Skye's puppy-dog eyes."

"Amen," Coulson sighed. He would know. He'd said yes to many things because of those eyes. "I'm still recovering from the time she let us get a waffle bar." To be fair, though, they were still benefitting from that. It turned out most of them would take their paychecks in the form of waffle bar usage.

"You guys have a waffle bar?" Callie demanded, pouting at Bobbi. "How come you guys never told me you had a waffle bar?" Bobbi stared at her niece regretfully, kissing her on the head. "I'm the waffle master!"

"It was classified."

"Fine. If you insist," Loki huffed finally, and Skye let out a cheer as he waved his hand. All of them stared at the phone, waiting for Ward to call back screaming. "There's going to be no difference between now and next week. For all he knows, the spell should wear off after a week."

"Well, we'll just have to call him next week," Skye answered evilly, handing the phone back to Coulson. "AC, we got any confrontations with HYDRA in a bit?"

"BLOODY HELL!" Fitz's voice shouted from the bathroom. "Looks just like haggis, this blob does..." All of the Avengers looked at each other, Tony turning slightly green at the insinuation that haggis would look like a blob of blood. Thor looked like he was going to throw up.

"Well," Callie quipped cheerfully. "I guess Crumpet's up!" She turned to Simmons. "Tea, more Aca-Acame-you might want to get the Super Tylenol," she told her meekly amid laughter from all of the scientists, Simmons and Bobbi included. "I'll learn it. Someday."

* * *

"If it isn't Ward," Skye growled some weeks later as she, May and Bobbi backflipped through the broken windows of a bar, having arrived on scene after learning of an attack. "Grant," she said chipperly as the man in question jumped in from the other side of the bar, wincing slightly as he landed.

"Ah, ah, ah," May answered just as snarkily. "I think there's one thing that we're forgetting here, Skye," she said as Ward made a vague motion towards grabbing his stomach. "It's not Grant anymore, remember?" To Ward, she said, "How's them cramps? Heard they were killer."

"Fuck...you," Ward spat out, doubling over to clutch at her stomach. May tossed out a careless laugh, stalking over to him easily and kicking him down. There was no emotion in her tone as she pulled a gun to his head, clicking off the safety.

"I already did that. Not an experience I'd like to try again. Plus," she said exaggeratedly as Bobbi casually twirled her staves in the corner, "I don't swing that way. What do you think we should name her?" she asked the other two women. "Somehow, 'douchebag' doesn't really work with women."

"Well, don't name her after me," Natasha answered as she entered the same way the other three had, adding another backflip before touching the ground. 'Show-off,' Bobbi muttered. "I don't want to have a psycho sharing a name with me."

"For once, don't use Tony," Tony broke in, choosing to take down a wall with a repulsor instead. "He's not anything like me, and never will be." He touched down and poked a quivering Ward with his boot. The back of Ward's pants immediately blossomed with a stain, a metallic stain filling the air.

"Oh, _ew, _that is just nasty," Clint chose to enter normally with Steve, his hand quickly flying to cover his face once he took in the smell. He turned to Natasha. "Over thirteen years we've been waking up together, and I don't think it's _ever _smelt that bad."

Meanwhile, Bruce was sarcastically tapping his chin in thought. "Grant," he said thoughtfully. "Grant, Grant, Grant..Hand me that ICER, Fitz," he commanded, and Fitz handed it over almost absentmindedly. Without thought, Bruce shot it twice into Ward's back, laughing as the stain increased with Ward's slumping over. "Grace sounds good."

An uplifting chorus of guitars suddenly rang out among them, and Natasha fumbled for her phone, cursing under her breath. "Callie's fault, she's making me watch goddamned _Friday Night Lights,_" she muttered, answering the phone. "Something about Morse looking like Tyra Collette. Yeah, Callie." she said. "Yes, we're with the Bus team." She paused, looked at Coulson and May. "She says you guys better let her raid the waffle bar or she's engaging in evasive maneuvers with the Bus the next time she gets out."

Bobbi, however, was still entrenched in the last part. "I do not look like Tyra!" She whirled on Simmons, who had decidedly chosen to look elsewhere. "Do I?" Natasha suddenly turned to Bobbi, five times more interested.

"Oh, cool, you watch it," she said. "You can catch up with Callie. I'm sick of the redneck soap opera. Makes me feel like I'm on my period all the time."

"Cool!" Callie's voice exclaimed from the other end of the line, much to Coulson's dismay. "We can eat from the waffle bar, too!"

* * *

**I _told _you there would be blood. But that's not this week's icebreaker. To everyone that knows about the new Callie and Bobbi spin-off...what should it be called? Help! Leave your answers in the reviews! :D**


	49. FitzSimmons Is Bad At Giving Gifts

**Hi! Senior year has kicked in, so updates are really going on the line...which is to say, there won't be another update for two weeks. Sorry :( Although there might be tumblr drabbles. Same name, same game!**

**Shoutout to tgojeff, Sleepy Butterfly, AngelofDarkness505 and Lock on Lockon for following! **

**Thanks to SwifteForeverandAlways for being the only one to suggest a name! And to wolfprincess14...ALL THE PAIN. Have a cookie!**

* * *

"No, _seriously, _Fitz, we need to find a better way to say thank you other than a large pair of Hulk gloves!"

"Well, then what do _you _want to get him, Jem? You already said no to getting him a monkey!" Fitz _really _didn't know what was so bad about getting a monkey. They were cute, cuddly, and humankind's closest ancestor! What more could one ask for in a lab assistant?

"That's because _you _want a monkey, Fitz, and just because you want one doesn't mean Dr. Banner would appreciate one! Frankly, I think it'd be more trouble than it's worth!" Simmons sighed. She'd been through this argument cycle about five times, and was about to start the sixth. It really was getting tiring.

"Don't you think he'd appreciate the joke, then, Jem? Doesn't seem like he gets a lot of time to laugh these days, what with the HYDRA uprising and all."

Simmons buried her head in her right hand, resting it on the lab counter. "Fine." she said shortly. She glared at the Hulk gloves that were sitting three feet away from her. "Fine. Send them to Dr. Banner. Just don't blame me when we get an angry call from Coulson demanding to know what happened."

"Oh come on, Jem, even Coulson's on board with this." It was true-Coulson had grudgingly admitted that sending the gloves was a good idea, even cracking some sort of chuckle as he sent Fitz off to the lab. "If the Director's approving this, I don't see why not."

"Just send it, Fitz, before I change my mind and rip the package from your hands." Fitz scurried out of the room, yelling for Mack and some wrapping paper.

* * *

"_Dr. Banner, there is a package waiting for you on the mail floor. It would be in your best interests to go and retrieve it." _

"Thanks, JARVIS," Bruce muttered, blinking a little bit as he picked his head up from the microscope. "Package for me, you say? You sure they didn't mix it up with Tony's or something?"

"_I am quite sure, Dr. Banner. The package is addressed from Bora Bora." _

"That doesn't help much." Bruce racked his brain as he headed towards the elevator. Who would be sending him a package from Bora Bora? Everyone was currently at the Tower, so unless Steve and Natasha had suddenly taken off to give birth in peace, there wasn't anyone who would send him anything. "Was it scanned for threats?"

"_Indeed, it went through the appropriate channels before being delivered," _JARVIS answered, slightly annoyed. _"I am very much assured that there is nothing of significant threat in the package."_

"Can't fault me for being wary," Bruce muttered. "The last time I got a package from nowhere, Skye sent me exploding packing peanuts." They were still being occasionally found around the Tower-Thor had picked one up last week, causing repairs to need to be made once again for the window in the living room.

"Package for Dr. Banner?" one of the mailwomen asked when Bruce walked into the mailroom, handing him a box. "My son's a big fan," she said as Bruce signed the slip, smiling at her. "Got Down syndrome himself. I swear, all he does around the house is shout 'HULK SMASH!' and scare the mickey out of everyone."

"Is that so?" Of course Tony would hire people that had disabled kids. It was just the type of person he was. "Do you have another piece of paper?" The woman nodded, sliding another piece over the counter. "What's your son's name, ma'am?" (He'd totally picked it up from Steve. Tony had yet to determine whether it was his fault.)

The woman looked surprised and delighted. "Adam, sir."

"Alright, then." Bruce put pen to paper, quickly thinking about what he wanted to say. "'To Adam,'" he wrote. "'Always keep shouting HULK SMASH. It's a great thing to live by. Sincerely, Dr. Bruce Banner, AKA Hulk.' There you go." He took the package, handing the paper back to the woman. "Have a nice day!"

"Thank you!"

"Well, you weren't lying, J, it really is from Bora Bora," Bruce said as he got into the elevator, shaking the box. "Looks like whoever sent it was on the beach, too."

"_Have I ever lied to you, Dr. Banner?"_

"You mean not counting the time I asked you whether I had a giant purple mark on my face and you said no?" The elevator whooshed open to the lab, and Bruce set the package on the lab while he went hunting for a package opener. "I'm not sure Natasha's let me live that day down yet." He finally unearthed the opener under a pile of Tony's blueprints (for what they were for, he had no idea) and sliced right through the box, opening it.

There were a large pair of Hulk gloves inside the box, a small blue envelope attached to the side. Bruce picked the card out first, at the very least to determine if the gloves were actually a threat.

_Dear Dr. Banner,_

_We realize we never did get to express our gratitude for your help on the inhuman compounds a few weeks ago. Please accept these gloves as a thank-you for your expertise on the matter. _

_Sincerely, Jemma Simmons and Leopold Fitz_

_P.S. Simmons was all for getting you a potted plant or something. We figured a monkey wasn't appropriate. _

"Ah, FitzSimmons," Bruce chuckled, looking back once more at the large pair of Hulk gloves in the box. Now that he did think about it, it would be exactly like them to send him a pair of Hulk gloves as a thank-you present. Tugging the gloves out of the box, he put them on his hands, surprised when they were a perfect fit. Experimentally, he smashed them together, jumping as they gloves let out a tinny 'HULK SMASH!'

As he remembered what the woman in mailroom had said, an idea slowly came to Bruce. Quickly, he stripped off the gloves and lay them on the table, scrambling for the tools he needed.

If he was going to get this done before Tony came looking for him, he had to act quickly.

* * *

"Brucie?" Tony called as he stumbled into a pitch-black lab, not at all drunk and perfectly sober. "Bruuuucieee, where are you? I've got some _greeeeat _plans for us to think about for science. Like what if we thought about making a girl AI for JARVIS because he totally needs a lady friend that isn't Skye or Daisy or whatever her name is," He swore loudly as he ran into a lab stool, catching himself from falling to the floor. "Motherfucking stool, why'd you have to be in the middle of the lab?" he cried. "Bruce, why the hell do you have the lab lights off anywaysh, they're not going to hurt you..."

It was oddly quiet. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to Tony that Bruce might have actually gone to bed at a decent hour like a normal human being. "Bruce?" he asked, feeling oddly timid. "Brucie? Are you here?"

Suddenly, there was the sound of rubble falling, then a loud roar, followed by a deep _"HULK SMASH!"_

If there had been any doubts to Tony's sobriety, they were surely gone now. Instantly, Tony's face plate was lowered, and he was up in the air, his phasers pointed a thousand places at once. _"JARVIS, what's the status of the other Avengers?" _

"_Everyone is currently asleep, sir, save for Master Barton, who is returning from a mission in Bangkok." _

"_Good. Don't sound the alarm unless things get out of control." _The light from the arc reactor was put on full force, and Tony scanned the dark lab for any sign of the Hulk, mentally preparing for any situation that might arise. _He wasn't there, nor in the other corner...wait, there was something...was that...was that... _"Banner?"

Indeed, Bruce was rolling around the on the floor in laughter, green Hulk gloves clutched to his chest. Slowly, Tony lowered himself to the ground, absolutely confused. "But...but...where's the Other Guy?"

"Never...never happened, Tony," Bruce wheezed, still trying to gain control of himself. "You should have seen how fast you got sober. I think I'll have to take these with me in case you're ever drunk on an emergency mission."

"What...what even..." Tony was still trying to make sense of everything-and the fact that he was absolutely wasted wasn't helping. "What the hell are you wearing, anyways?" It seemed like a good question to start with. "And how the hell did you...you know what, I don't even know where to start with that part."

"Well, I got these gloves from FitzSimmons," Bruce explained, trying to haul himself up from the floor. Tony floated down to the floor, throwing his mask up. "See, if you smash them together they'll let out a little 'HULK SMASH!' So I figured, why not amplify the sound when you smashed them together? I just didn't expect you to be my first victim," he chuckled, taking the gloves off.

"I...I...what..." Tony wasn't sure he was taking it nicely that he'd been the victim of a prank. Normally he was the one that started these sort of things. "I'm glad I won't remember this in the morning," he said finally. "I don't need the world knowing I'm scared of the Hulk."

"You know you love the Other Guy," Bruce rolled his eyes, switching on the lights. He touched a finger to the GoPro that was strapped to his shoulder, and Tony paled. "Oh, yeah, you'll definitely remember this in the morning," he cackled. "And maybe it'll come up at your wedding."

"I hate you, Brucie."

"Did I mention that JARVIS already sent a copy to Coulson?"

**dontcallmeAC - notajollygreengiant: **Excellent work, Dr. Banner. I do think we could use you in Skye's reaction testing.

**cloudformations - dontcallmeAC - notajollygreengiant: **you're kidding right AC you're not actually going to bring banner to practice my reflexes #seriously #no

**cloudformations - werefitzsimmons: **I will kill you both why didn't you just get him a monkey

**werefitzsimmons - cloudformations: **We didn't think he'd put it to use this way! And plus, Jemma was all against getting the monkey!

**yesiwashydragetoverit - werefitzsimmons: **Jesus, you two, all you had to do was send Hunter. Banner would have loved the close relative to marsupials. #haveyouevenseenhim

**cloudformations - yesiwashydragetoverit - werefitzsimmons: ***shade thrown* OOOOOOOH

**justamerc - cloudformations - yesiwashydragetoverit: **I'm hurt. Obviously, Bobbi's the closer relative, she's the one that tends to fly into rages more often. #notevenPMS #honestly

**cloudformations - yesiwashydragetoverit - justamerc: ***more shade thrown* OOOOOOOOOOH

**justamerc - cloudformations: **and you're a child. #truth

**yesiwashydragetoverit - cloudformations - justamerc: ***puts on Skye expression* *shade thrown* OOOOOOOOH

**notajollygreengiant - dontcallmeAC - cloudformations: **I'd love to come down and help training, Director Coulson, but I'm afraid certain things have come up that I must stay in the Tower for. Perhaps in a few weeks or so?

**cloudformations - werefitzsimmons: **where's the chitauri virus does that still kill people

**ewcoffeeno - notajollygreengiant: **How's she doing?

**notajollygreengiant - ewcoffeeno: **Well, so far. Tony's been threatened no more than twice daily, nothing's been destroyed, and Steve's not dead yet. I'd say we're looking pretty good.

**ewcoffeeno - notajollygreengiant: **Good. I want to be there when it starts.

**tonyisnowdead - ewcoffeeno: **I got you, May. I'll let you know.

**cloudformations - ewcoffeeno - notajollygreengiant: **what what's going on what does AM know that we don't may? may?

**cloudformations - ewcoffeeno: **MAY?

**cloudformations: **WHY DOES NO ONE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON

**yesiwashydragetoverit - notajollygreengiant: **Did she get the thing I sent her?

**loveisforchildren - yesiwashydragetoverit: **Morse, I'm still here, you know. And I did. It was very cute. Steve won't stop snuggling with it.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Bruce?" Steve asked as he and the aforementioned scientist stood at a vent opening, looking upwards into it. Bruce was kitted out once more in his gloves and speakers, his camera strapped to his shoulder. "There _is _the possibility of you getting shot, you know."

"Steve, I'm fairly sure I'm more likely to fall off of your shoulders than I am to get shot by Clint," Bruce sighed, resisting the urge to touch a glove to his forehead. "I've done the math. Even if I _do _get shot by Barton, I'm not going to Hulk out." He gave Steve a look. "Just boost me onto your shoulders already."

Steve sighed, obviously still worried about the outcome of this prank. "Fine." He bent down, and Bruce cautiously climbed onto his back, careful not to disturb any of his equipment. "Ready when you are."

"Up we go!" Bruce exclaimed, raising a fisted glove in the air. Steve rolled his eyes and stood up, slowly raising Bruce to the ceiling. He silently stuck both hands into the air vent, hoisting himself in. "Thanks, Steve. I almost felt like I was flying."

"Don't count on it too often," Steve answered. "Especially when Natasha pops. I'll be too busy trying to figure out what to name the kid to hoist you into vents." And with that, he turned around and walked off, pretending as if he hadn't seen anything.

"Steve."

Steve turned around. "Yes, Bruce?"

Bruce paused sheepishly, sticking his head out of the hole. "You know...if Natasha goes into labor, I'm still available to call on a moment's notice, right? Even if I am," he gestured to the vent, "sneaking around in the vents like the second coming of Clint."

"_Never _let Clint have children," Steve vowed. Bruce nodded with a silent 'amen'. "And of course I know that. We wouldn't trust anyone else to give birth to him." Bruce beamed and disappeared once more.

"Hi, I'm Bruce, and welcome to 'Hulk Smash'," he said quietly once the camera was turned on. "Last week, I chose my first victim in Tony Stark. As you might be able to tell with this week," He knocked softly on the vent. "I'm going to scare the living daylights out of Clint. I'll take it as a compliment if he falls out."

Bruce carefully navigated his way through the vents, taking directions from the purple stickers that were slapped onto the walls, blatantly marking Clint's territory. Once or twice he almost fell through a false opening, nearly toppling into Steve and Natasha's room at one point. (_That _would not have turned out well.)

"And here we go," he whispered before he turned a corner. He'd already peeked around once to see if Clint was there, and sure enough he had been, scrolling through Tumblr on his phone. "And he's right over the opening to the kitchen. Perfect." Fiddling with his controls, he set it to simply shout the saying before taking a deep breath and smashing his gloves together.

"_HULK SMASH!"_

"AGH!" Clint jumped what must have been about a foot in the air, nearly bumping his head on the vent's ceiling before slipping through the hole that was the vent's opening, flailing as he fell towards the kitchen. Bruce saw, a little too late, that Pepper was coming right into Clint's trajectory, and made sure to catch it all on camera as Clint fell onto the tray Pepper was holding, knocking it right out of her arms and splashing food everywhere.

"TONNNYYY!"

"_WASN'T ME!"_

"Can't have been, Stark isn't smart enough to get into the vents," Clint muttered as he stood, dripping in what appeared to be tomato soup. "Pepper, I am so, so _so _sorry about this, I totally didn't mean to-"

"No, it's fine," Pepper answered offhandedly, still a little shocked that she was covered in potato salad. "I'll just go have Steve get some more from downstairs." Clint went pale, and an ugly realization dawned on Bruce.

"That food wasn't for Nat, by any chance, was it?"

"Couldn't find Steve anywhere, so I volunteered to get it myself," Pepper shrugged. "Of course, I didn't expect to serve it by wringing it out of my shirt." She gave Clint a side-over glance. "Nor, I expect, from your pajamas." She sighed, wringing her hands together. "I'd better go get changed. You know how Nat is about her food being late." Clint made a face.

"I'm not sure you want to die young," he answered, and the both of them shuffled to the elevator. Bruce seemed to have lost his breath temporarily as he sat there, frozen. Then, he scrambled out of the vent, hurriedly grabbing a can of tomato soup from the cabinet and spilling it into a pan.

**loveisforchildren: **I don't want to be rude...but has anyone seen my food?

**RealSteveRogers - loveisforchildren: **Did you want food, Nat? What do you want? I can get it in about a minute or so.

**loveisforchilren - RealSteveRogers: **It's alright, I asked Pepper to get it for me about fifteen minutes ago. It should be here by now. **tonyisnowdead **Pep?

**tonyisnowdead - loveisforchildren - RealSteveRogers: **I am so, so, so sorry, Nat, Clint just did a thing where he fell out of a vent and right onto your food, I mean, what are the chances?

**awcoffeeno - loveisforchildren - tonyisnowdead: **okay this one is perfectly explainable, i was scrolling through tumblr in the vents when suddenly +

**awcoffeeno - loveisforchildren - tonyisnowdead: **i heard this giant thing of "HULK SMASH!" and it scared the shit out of me cause I thought Bruce +

**awcoffeeno - loveisforchildren - tonyisnowdead: **was hulking out again and i fell out of the damn vent on and onto pepper and that's why your +

**awcoffeeno - loveisforchildren - tonyisnowdead: **food is late, nat im so sorry

**tonyisnowdead - loveisforchildren - RealSteveRogers: **And that's another weird thing about it: Tony says it wasn't him.

**awcoffeeno - noonetellpepper: **tony, what's good?

**noonetellpepper - awcoffeeno: **whoevr thought of dis prank thts 4 sure #wasntme #fairlyashamedtosay

**manofasgard - noonetellpepper - awcoffeeno - loveisforchildren - RealSteveRogers: **TWAS NOT I. I WOULD WONDER WHAT MARVEL HAD ALLOWED ME INTO FRIEND BARTON'S HALLOWED HALLS TO BEGIN WITH.

**cloudformations - manofasgard: **yeah I would too and then I'd get you stuck in there so we could all snuggle with you

**cloudformations - manofasgard: **oh shit sometimes I forget I'm not a fangirl anymore I actually *work* with you peeps now

**cloudformations: **shit

**awcoffeeno: **five bucks to whoever hacks her old photos and finds her cosplaying days

Bruce staggered into the room under the weight of the immense tray, large bowls of tomato soup and potato salad causing his arms to shake. "Sorry, Natasha," he wheezed, holding out the tray as a peace offering. "Clint and Pepper decided to change, so I got the food for you."

Steve gave him a look that told him he didn't believe one word of the untold backstory. He took the tray anyways, setting it onto the shelf built into the bed. "Thanks, Bruce. I'm sure the whole thing was really just an ugly accident."

"Sure..." Bruce fled the room before Steve or Natasha could make head or tail of his vague statement. "At least they don't know I was the one that ruined the food," he muttered to himself as he headed back to his floor. "Then I'd really be dead."

**loveisforchildren: **Wait, Bruce was the only one who could get into the vents...

* * *

"I can't believe you're going to try this," Steve said as Bruce climbed onto the back of his motorcycle, his equipment stored safely in a satchel on his back. "This has got to be one of your worse ideas. And I thought you went to MIT." Steve was headed to SHIELD headquarters to get a mission brief, and Bruce had decided to tag along, making none other than Maria Hill his next target.

"It's worth a shot," Bruce shrugged. "After all, you only live once, right? Figure if I'm going to die, I might as well have tried to scare the second-in-command." The light turned green, and Steve sped up, causing Bruce to hold onto Steve's broad back for dear life. "Could you slow down? I don't want to have to deliver Natasha's baby from a splat on the street." A thought struck him. "You guys found a name yet?"

"No, not yet," Steve called back over the roar of the wind. "We're definitely not naming him Anthony Jr., nor Clinton Jr, so you can rest assured there isn't a name along those lines." Bruce had never thrown his name into the ring-a name like his was so..._old. _No one was called Robert anymore. And 'Rob' somehow didn't fit the title of the child of Captain America and Black Widow. "We're thinking maybe something named after Fury."

"Just don't name him Fury," Bruce joked. "He might feel pressure to live up to his name!" Steve chuckled at that, slowing down as they pulled into the parking lot. Bruce slowly disembarked on wobbly legs, grabbing onto the side of the bike more than once to steady himself. "I'm good," he said as Steve made a worried move towards him. "Just gotta get my land legs back."

Steve bit back the remark that he'd never left land in the first place. "Okay, well, I'm going to go get briefed. You can do whatever it is you're going to do to Deputy Director Hill; if I hear gunshots, then I'll assume it's okay to leave without you, and if I hear screams, I'll pull the bike around to the back."

Bruce nodded determinedly. "Good." As Steve set off into the building, Bruce gazed at its exterior with a practiced eye. _Yup, there was really no stealthy way to get in. Looks like he'd have to go through the front door. _

He tried to look casual as he sauntered in, holding his bag like it was full of nothing new. Of course, it still had to go through security, but there was nothing suspicious about a pair of Hulk gloves and a speaker...right?

Or so he thought. "The Deputy Director's on the thirtieth floor," the security guard said to him. "If you pull it off, I'll start lockdown to get you out of here as fast as possible." Bruce opened his mouth, then decided he wasn't going to ask, instead taking his bag and heading through to the elevators.

It was a silent ride up to the thirtieth floor, various agents coming in and out of the elevator, each of them giving him a knowing look as if they knew what he was up to. (He later learned that Clint had tweeted about the prank, apparently spreading it to everyone _but _the Deputy Director.)

Once situated in an empty room, Bruce pulled his gloves and speaker out of his bag, attaching his speaker to his gloves and putting it on his back. The gloves were slipped on, and Bruce attached his GoPro to his shoulder, casually strolling into the hallway when he saw Maria Hill walking down.

He was about five feet away from her, about to smash his gloves together, when Hill held up a hand, and without turning around, shut him down. "Don't even think about it, Dr. Banner."

Bruce's mouth dropped open. "But..how...they told me..." They had. And unless the whole of SHIELD had conspired to plot against him, which he highly doubted... "I even got Barton! How'd you get it?"

"Barton didn't have Rogers on his side, I daresay," Hill answered as she continued walking, completely unfazed. "I suppose he didn't want you to get killed or anything. Do me a favor, though, and don't try it on anyone else in this building."

**notajollygreengiant - RealSteveRogers: **Traitor. You sold me out.

**RealSteveRogers - notajollygreengiant: **Director Hill asked. I had to answer her honestly. And plus, Clint tweeted it.

**notajollygreengiant - awcoffeeno: **Thanks, Barton. The joke was completely lost on Hill.

**awcoffeeno - notajollygreengiant: **Fine, I'll help you with the next opportunity. After all, it's for the common good.

**notajollygreengiant - awcoffeeno: **The next *two*, Barton.

**awcoffeeno - notajollygreengiant: **but I don't wanna die, Bruce!

**notajollygreengiant - awcoffeeno: **You screwed this one up, you owe me the last one. And plus, it's becoming a medical must at this point. I don't need him being over nourished.

**notajollygreengiant - dontcallmeAC: **When are you guys due back?

**dontcallmeAC - notajollygreengiant: **We're supposed to come back on the 11th. Are we putting our plans into motion?

**notajollygreengiant - dontcallmeAC: **Get Hunter and Morse ready.

**cloudformations - notajollygreengiant - dontcallmeAC: **WHAT ARE WE DOING THIS TIME?

**yesiwashydragetoverit - notajollygreengiant - dontcallmeAC: **We're ready.

**justamerc - notajollygreengiant - dontcallmeAC: **We've been waiting for a bloody hell of a long time...

**cloudformations: **WHAT DON'T I KNOW?

* * *

"FitzSimmons!" Bruce exclaimed as they walked into the Tower, each of them lugging heavy bags. "Good to see you guys again!" He cocked his head as he looked them over. "Is it just me, or did one of you grow?"

"It was probably Simmons," Fitz muttered. "She drank a bloody growth formula last week and I'm fairly sure it wasn't completely impotent." He dropped his bag on the ground, stretching a bit. "On the other hand, she didn't shut up about her craving for hot dogs, either, so I don't really know."

"The only thing that's grown is my hair, Fitz," Simmons chided, dropping her own bag on the ground. "It's good to see you, Dr. Banner," she said warmly. "Did you receive our present? I wasn't sure if it would send, I mean, it _was _from a beach in Bora Bora and they're not really known for their mail service and all..."

"Did he ever," Tony cut in irritably, forcing himself into the conversation. "Scared the living crap out of Barton and I since he's gotten them. He tried to get Hill, but she shut him down real quick. I don't think I've ever seen him so defeated."

"Okay, but that was Clint's fault," Bruce defended. "He was the one that tweeted about it!"

"I haven't fallen out of a vent like that since Labor Day of '93," Clint amended. "And that was when Morse decided she'd let a snake loose in the vents just because I insulted her Dr. Who shirt." Bobbi, who was across the room, heard the comment and shot him a sarcastic smirk in return.

"You don't ever insult the Doctor. No matter what season it is."

"That's for sure," Simmons muttered under her breath. "Unlike _certain _souls I could mention..."

"I did not insult your so-called Twelfth Doctor!" Fitz cried. "I just said I thought he looked kind of homeless, that's all!"

"He did _not _look homeless, Fitz, just because you're incapable of doing half the things he does doesn't mean you can insult him!"

"Whadya call that jacket, then, eh, Jem? It was ripped to shreds on purpose, Jem. _On purpose. _And I'll have you know I can do twice the things he can do!"

"Don't be jealous, Fitz, it's not doing any wonders for you."

"I am _not _jealous!" Fitz declared hotly. "What do I have to be jealous of, hm? Why would I be jealous? Because you're _so _attracted to him?:

Silence chose to fall upon the entire group at that moment as Fitz and Simmons glared at each other. Hunter raised an eyebrow before coughing loudly, breaking up the moment. "Well, this has been great and all, but I just fought an entire squadron of HYDRA fogies and I'd really like a shower," he said loudly. "We'd best be off." There were various murmurs among the rest of them about shower and food, an unsaid invitation for drinking made by Natasha and May heading to the bar with Bobbi.

"We need to get this done, pronto." Coulson said to Bruce, who nodded. "I can't handle all of the tension that's building up on the Bus. Any more and I think something's going to break."

"After lunch tomorrow," Bruce said. "It'll give plenty of time to get Hunter and Morse sober."

* * *

"Scot is moving down the hallway, repeat, Scot is moving down the hallway," Bobbi said into her comm as she peered around the corner, seeing Fitz wander down the hallway. "Banner, you got the decoy in place?"

"Prepped and ready to go," Bruce said, his hand tightening on his controls. "Skye, you ready?" The plan had been to have Skye quake the place as Bruce ran, mimicking the Hulk's thunderous footsteps. Along with his gloves, Bruce had added a projector to give off Bruce's shadow.

"I'm good."

"Go, go, go!" Bobbi whispered, and Bruce leapt out of his hiding place, smashing his gloves together as he took long, steps down the hallway.

"_HULK SMASH!" _

Fitz saw the shadow loom from behind him before he heard the declaration, and immediately, his instincts kicked in, flat out sprinting down the hallway. The Tower shook with every step the Hulk took behind him, and frenzy mode took over, screaming in Fitz's head to find somewhere safe to hide.

"Hey, this is actually kind of fun," Skye quipped as she sent out her timed quakes. "It's like dancing. But not really." She gestured dramatically out. "And I can be all kinds of sassy with these things."

Up ahead of him, Fitz caught sight of a door and ran up to it, wrenching it open and jumping in. Bruce, pretending not to notice, ran past the door, still in character with the Hulk. As soon as the door shut, Bobbi leapt out of her place and locked it, stubbornly sitting outside of the door.

"Can we take a small break before grabbing Simmons?" Skye asked, sounding slightly winded. "I'm not sure I can take this prolonged release and re-grab."

"Sure. Everyone meet back here in ten," Coulson said. "I'm going to get some sandwiches to refuel. Bobbi, keep your position at the door."

"Like I was going to leave anyways."

* * *

"Skye!" Simmons called to her as Skye came into the kitchen, looking for something that wasn't a turkey sandwich. "Have you seen Fitz? I need him to test this prototype I've been working on, and he's nowhere to be seen..."

"Isn't he always with you?" Skye asked quizzically, tilting her head to one side. "I swear, you two are never apart-how'd you manage to lose him this time?" An idea came to her, and she suggested, "Hey, maybe you can just activate the 'find Fitz tracker' I know you've got in our lab case. Don't deny you've got it," she smirked as Simmons turned a bright red. "It's not going to get you anywhere."

"I will strongly deny such a piece of technology exists, and even if it did, I haven't gotten a chance to use it on Fitz yet," Simmons scoffed, then slapped a hand over her mouth as Skye roared with laughter. "The point is, have you seen him?" she got out finally when Skye stopped laughing. "I really do need him to check out this prototype."

"I think I saw him going down the south hall a couple of minutes ago," Skye answered, still looking mischievously at Simmons. "Are you sure you aren't going to find him to inject him with the tracker?" Simmons glared at Skye, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard her.

"I am _not _going to use the tracker," she hissed before whirling on her heel and stomping down the hallway. "I am going to find Fitz and ask him about a prototype. That is all." As soon as she disappeared, Skye spoke into her comm.

"Get ready. I sent Simmons down the hallway." She was already pulling off her gauntlets, sprinting to the other end of the kitchen. "Bobbi, hide. Bruce, get ready."

"Roger that."

"Got you."

"Brit is coming down the hallway, I repeat, Brit is coming down the hallway," came Bobbi's whisper a couple of minutes later. "Bruce, are you in position? Skye? How you doing?"

"Ready."

"Ready when you are, Bruce."

"Then let's get this done," Bruce began to take large, lumbering steps down the hallway Simmons was walking down, making it a few steps before smashing his gloves together. The building shook with Skye's tremors, shaking Simmons to her core.

"_HULK SMASH!" _

On cue, Bobbi appeared behind her, grabbing her arm. "Fucking _run, _Simmons!" she exclaimed, tugging harshly on her arm when Simmons barely budged an inch. "Dear God, don't ever make me do this again," she muttered to herself before sweeping Simmons up in her arms, sprinting down the hallway as Simmons squeaked.

"I did not see this coming," Coulson said as he watched Bruce, Simmons and Bobbi run down the hallway, Skye silently following him. "I really hope this makes its way onto the final cut."

"Okay, Simmons, closet," Bobbi exhaled as she nearly dropped the scientist onto the ground. "Get into the closet. I'll come get you when the all-clear sounds. Can you do that?" Simmons nodded mutely, and Bobbi opened the closet and all but threw Simmons in, shutting the door with a vengeance. Bruce thundered past her, Skye following with her quakes. As soon as the door shut, Hunter arrived in tow, and the two of them took up sentinel positions in front of the door.

* * *

"Fitz? Is that you?" There was the sound of constricted breathing, wheezing, and rattled breaths; Simmons went cold instantly-there was only one person who would be hyperventilating inside of closed spaces. As it was, the fact that she was being shoved into an enclosed space was slowly beginning to dawn on her.

"Don't worry 'bout me Simmons, 'm perfectly fine," Fitz wheezed, but all the same, she could tell he was struggling to retain a normal semblance. "Perfectly fine" was all he got out before he launched into a coughing fit, presumably at the dust that was in the closet.

"Shh, shh..." Instantly, she was at his side, somehow finding the outline of his body and rubbing circles on his back soothingly. "You're going to be fine, Fitz. Just fine. Breathe in and out. Deep breaths. That's it," she encouraged him as he gulped in air, letting it out in large gusts. "Just breathe, Fitz."

"It's...it's...it just reminds me of..." There was no need for him to finish the sentence, Simmons thought sadly, as she could remember quite clearly what he was remembering. Being trapped at the bottom of the ocean, death a near certainty. Coming to terms with their own mortalities. "I don't like it."

"But we're _here _now, Fitz, we're completely alive and well, alright? We're going to be just fine until Bobbi gives us the all clear from the Hulk, and we're going to go have a cup of tea, alright, Fitz?" Any attempt at comforting him wasn't working, and Simmons' heart broke into two as Fitz started drawing into himself, curling into a ball to escape the walls pressing in on him.

"Make it stop, Jem...make it..make it stop..." She could do nothing but hold him as he shook, fear eliminating any source of rationality that normally possessed his demeanor. "I just want it to stop, Jem...make the walls stop closing in on me." At this point, Simmons herself was on the verge of bursting into tears-watching her best friend break down like this was worse than any nightmare she'd had about his recovery.

She'd spent countless nights tossing and turning, reliving their time in the med pod, trying to come up with something, _anything_, that would have ended with her in the coma and Fitz completely fine after their shunt to the surface, that way she'd be the one with the claustrophobia and speech problems and he'd be the one undercover in HYDRA and being friends with Bobbi and-

She would have done anything to reverse their roles.

"Oh, Fitz," Simmons finally let it go in a watery sigh, clutching him closer as she sobbed into his shoulder, every single ounce of remorse and guilt she'd had since the accident flowing into tiny, little drops of seawater. "You don't know how I wish I could take it all away."

"No, Jem...don't." Fitz groused out, shakily placing a hand on her cheek. "Don't, Jem. I was the one who deserved the-the coma and you know it." Simmons shook her head tearfully, her tears saturating Fitz's hand.

"Never, Fitz," she gulped forcefully, glaring at him in the dark. Her eyes were just beginning to make out his face, his blue eyes rimmed with tiredness. "I will _never _say that about you. Ever." They were staring at each other now, the atmosphere charged with tension and electricity and that _thing _that had plagued the both of them ever since Simmons had returned from HYDRA.

"Then what would you say, Jem?" Fitz asked quietly, his hand still on her cheek. "What would you say?" Simmons went silent, not sure what she would say. Something inside of her told her that _now _was the time to make a move, to cross that line she'd imposed between the two of them since she'd returned.

"I-I don't know what I'd say, Fitz," she whispered, even as she brought her face closer to his. "I don't know."

She _still _didn't know as she locked her lips with his, cradling the back of his head as their two souls _finally _united, and for them both, it was like everything was right in the world.

Neither of them noticed Bobbi silently opening the closet door to check on them, doing a silent fistpump as she saw Fitz and Simmons kissing, nearly entwined with each other. Once the door was shut, however, she announced triumphantly, "It worked, y'all. Pay up."

* * *

"Hi, I'm Bruce, and this is going to be my last installment of 'Hulk Smash!' If all goes right, Natasha's going to go into labor, so I'll either be dead or helping labor," Bruce whispered as he approached Natasha the next week. slowly trailing behind her extremely pregnant self.

"And here we go." Wincing internally, he smashed his gloves together.

"_HULK SMASH!"_

Natasha jumped higher than Clint had when Bruce had scared him in the vents, and for a scary second, there was the sound of a _pop _before liquid streamed onto the floor, Natasha and Bruce staring at it in horror.

Natasha just looked at him. "Well. Time to head to the medical wing."

* * *

"I swear to Odin, Steve, if you ever get me pregnant again I will kill you," Natasha ground out a few hours later as she lay in the bed, sweating out what seemed to be another round of contractions. "Do you hear me? I. Will. Kill. You."

"Whatever you say, honey," Steve said soothingly, rubbing her hand. "We don't have to have any more babies after this." He'd been prepped on this thoroughly by Clint, having been run through several times with the phrase 'she doesn't mean half of it'.

He was starting to get the sense of how Hunter felt like whenever he was fighting with Bobbi.

"You know what, never mind, I take that back," Natasha babbled as she gasped her way down from the pain. "Let's have more kids. Hell, let's have enough kids to fill the Tower. Stark would be horrifi-AAAAGH!" Another contraction hit her, and Steve noticed with some alarm that they were coming faster than before.

"I think she's just about ready," Bruce said, hurrying in, strapping on his gloves. He took a glance below the blanket as Simmons rushed in right after him. "Concur, Dr. Simmons?"

"Absolutely." She looked at Natasha in glee. "Time to push, Agent Romanoff."

"I'm not ready to do this," Natasha whimpered, grabbing onto Steve's hand. "I can't do this, Steve. I can't. I'm not ready to become a mother. There's so many things I'm going to mess up. I can't. I can't. I need to make it go away."

"Natasha, you have to push," Bruce warned her. "You gotta push soon."

"I can't, Bruce, I can't, I can't push-ARGH!" Another contraction ripped through Natasha, and she screamed in pain, her face nearly going purple.

"Push now, Agent Romanoff, push now!" Simmons urged her, some panic starting to show in her eyes. "You've got to push for the sake of the baby!"

"Push, Nat, push," Steve told her, looking directly into her green eyes. "Do it. We're going to have a son, and he's going to be beautiful just like you. Just push."

She did.

The baby's crying was immediate as soon as he made his way into the world, and Natasha slumped back in relief. "You did it, Nat," Steve whispered jubilantly to her as Bruce and Simmons fussed over him, making the appropriate words. "You really did it."

Natasha gave a watery laugh, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes. "Yeah," she whispered. "I really did it," Bruce and Simmons came over at the point, each of them looking just like Natasha did.

"Congratulations," Simmons said. "It's a boy."

"We have a son," Natasha's voice wobbled a bit as she took the small bundle in her arms. The boy's eyes opened wide for the first time, and she and Steve noted that they were a bright blue. "His eyes are just like yours, babe."

"I'm hoping he has your hair," Steve chuckled. "It would make it easier to find him in a crowd, that's for sure?"

"Do you have a name for him?" Bruce asked. Steve and Natasha shifted, staring intently at their bundle of joy.

"Matthew," Natasha said finally. "Let's name him Matthew. Matthew Rogers. Matt Rogers for short." Steve raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"How about Matthew Phillip Rogers?" Simmons let out a small laugh, as did Bruce.

"You are aware Coulson is going to throw a fit," she said, already reaching for her tablet to record the name. "He's going to be thrilled."

**dontcallmeAC: **mATTHEW PHILLIP ROGERS

**dontcallmeAC: **They named him MATTHEW. PHILLIP. ROGERS. #blessed

**dontcallmeAC: **HIS MIDDLE NAME IS PHILLIP.

**dontcallmeAC: **PHILLIP.

**ewcoffeeno: **We get it, Phil. Go to bed.

**dontcallmeAC - ewcoffeeno: **But MaY! *PHILLIP*!

**cloudformations - dontcallmeAC: **plz AC just go to bed

**yesiwashydragetoverit: **You're not serious he's still celebrating

**ewcoffeeno - yesiwashydragetoverit: **unfortunately

**dontcallmeAC - ewcoffee - yesiwashydragetoverit: **FINE. But PHILLIP.

* * *

**And here's this week's icebreaker question: _If you could pull Bruce's prank on any of the Bus team/Avengers, who would you pull it on and why?_**

**Best review/answer gets the gloves! I'll see you guys in two weeks!**


	50. If Only New York Wasn't So Far Away

**I wrote this thing _everywhere. _The bus. The train. Study hall. _E__verywhere. _**

**Shoutout to AgentMaryMargaretSkitz, superArianara-N7, avtorSola, and Randombookworm123 for following! **

**What's up with everyone wanting to prank Hunter? I mean...**

**ALSO: I SERIOUSLY MESSED WITH THE TIMELINE HERE.**

* * *

"Stupid, stupid volunteer hours!" Skye exclaimed as she clicked to yet another page of her college admission forms. "I don't get why working at SHIELD doesn't count for anything. I mean, I'm doing something for the greater good, there's no paycheck...In fact, I'm not really sure why I agreed to this," she huffed. "I'm risking my _life_ for these volunteer hours here." A few months ago, someone (read: May) had decided it would be a good idea for Skye to apply for a college education, especially with Tony backing SHIELD nowadays. She'd put it off as long as possible, but when she'd noticed Callie and Nicky going through the same misery, she'd announced they'd all go through it together.

"Name of employer, time spent there, average salary," Callie murmured as her eyes flew over the page. "What even _is_ employment?" she asked herself. "Aunt Skye, is there anything I've done that can be considered employment?" Skye looked just as puzzled as Callie did, taking a few seconds before answering,

"I don't really know, Cals," she admitted. "You did spend that internship at SI last summer." Granted, most of it had been filing the papers Pepper hadn't had time for when she was wrangling Tony, but she'd gotten something out of it all the same-the twenty-five ways to kill someone with a stapler. "Maybe you could write that down?"

"And list who as my supervisor? 'Aunt Pepper' doesn't sound that great," Callie sighed, typing in 'Stark Industries' and 'Pepper Potts' in the required fields. "Does 'scientist wrangler' count? Because I think they should pay me for dragging Aunt Bobbi and FitzSimmons out of the labs." She'd pulled some late nights because of that.

"They do pay you," Nicky joked from the other side of the kitchen table, where he was filling out his own admission forms. "Have you not _seen_ the number of times per year you get new shoes?" He sighed as he read the next line of the application. "Number of siblings: three. One, Catalina Scarlett Barton," he said as he typed in the words, sounding them out as he went. "Two, Anthony Edward Stark. Three, Skye Johnson." Skye looked at him in mock outrage. "It's true!" he said by way of defense. "You and Uncle Tony are literally grown children."

"You are _not_ putting your Uncle Tony as your sibling," came Natasha's stern voice as she and Clint walked into the kitchen, cookies in hand. As she handed one to each of them, she peered over Callie's shoulder. "What kind of schools you got down, Cals?" As Callie pulled up her list, the frown on Natasha's face only grew more pronounced. "Stanford, Columbia, Brown, Princeton, NYU, Harvard...honey, these are all Ivies. And private schools." She turned to look at Callie. "What's wrong with public schools?"

"They're _public_ schools!" Callie exclaimed in frustration. She'd had this argument several times over with Natasha already, having pushed ferociously for a private school while her parents had voiced their opinions on public school. "And look, I know you said that public schools are just as good, but it would just make me feel better to go to a private school."

"And I'm going to ask again: why can't we just apply to the Academy?" Nicky asked, having had a similar conversation with Clint. "I mean, we already know everything we'd ever need to know about science with FitzSimmons, engineering with Uncle Mack, history with you and Uncle Steve, and physics with Uncle Tony. What else do we need to know?"

"How about your English?" Clint commented dryly, looking over at Nicky's essay. "I read your writing. It sounds like Tony's mission reports. And considering he abbreviates _everything_, I'm not sure that's a good sign." Nicky spluttered for a response before finding none. "Just because you want to major in engineering, Nicky, doesn't mean you don't need to know English."

"That still doesn't answer my question!" Callie exclaimed. "What's wrong with Ivy League schools? I thought you'd be happy that I'd be smart enough to go to private schools. Especially Ivy League ones!" Clint and Natasha shared a look. "And I saw that look, you two. What is it about Ivies?"

"Harvard's HYDRA," Skye blurted out randomly, not even looking up from her computer. Clint and Natasha just glared at her. She looked back at them just as innocently. "Ooh, sorry, was I not supposed to say that out loud? Yeah, Harvard's HYDRA," she said to the twins once more. "We can't hit them, they've got too much renown. And even so, all we've got is that one mission that happened nearly twenty years ago." Clint and Natasha were glaring daggers at Skye, as if they'd make her shut up. Skye went on. "Says that the two agents undercover were..._no_ _way_," she exclaimed, chuckling. "I don't believe this."

"Who were they?" Callie and Nicky demanded in unison, Clint and Natasha squeezing their eyes shut in embarrassment. "Who were they, Aunt Skye, who were they?" College applications long forgotten, they scrambled around the island, gathering around her computer. "No way!" they exclaimed, spinning around to face their parents. "You guys went to _Harvard_?"

"It's a fact they still like to brag about," Bobbi scowled as she came in, holding several cans of soda. "Beat my volleyball team into the ground while they were there, as a matter of fact. I still don't know how they let your mother on the team. She was so shocked to see me there she nearly had the ball spiked into her face." Callie and Clint burst into laughter while Natasha rolled her eyes at Bobbi, flipping her the bird.

"Can you explain to her _why_ going to public school is better than private school?" Natasha asked exasperatedly, looking to Bobbi for help. Bobbi frowned as she handed Skye and Clint their beers, flipping Nicky and Callie a can of soda each. "She's dead set on going to an Ivy League."

"Ew, Ivy League," Bobbi snorted, cracking open her own can of soda. "Half of them wouldn't take me because I was from Georgia. The other half because I wanted to major in biochemistry. Do _not_ go to an Ivy League," she advised both of them, waggling a can in their direction. "I went to Georgia Tech. Turned out just fine."

"Cool, that's settled," Callie announced decisively. "Georgia Tech it is!" Skye muffled a snicker at Callie's choice. Of _course_ she would've picked Bobbi's alma mater. Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes while Bobbi smirked. Callie caught the exchange between them. "What? I'm not just picking Georgia Tech 'cause Aunt Bobbi went there! It's totally got a good chemistry program! And great food! And it's down south, which I've always wanted to visit...fine, you got me,"

"Not our fault you're so predictable," Nicky smirked as he turned to Bobbi. "Wait, where did Uncle Lance go to college?" Natasha, Clint and Bobbi all burst out into laughter, Clint nearly dropping his beer. "I don't get what's so funny!" Natasha stopped laughing long enough to attempt to compose herself, only to burst out laughing again. "Someone tell me what's so funny!"

"Hunter didn't _go_ to college," Bobbi answered. "He spent his life in the military before Coulson fished him out of merc work." Nicky's shoulders slumped, and Bobbi patted him on the back comfortingly. "Sorry, kiddo. If it helps, your Uncle Mack went to Northwestern. And Sam I think went to American University."

"I'm still applying to the Ivies," Nicky muttered, but no one missed him adding those schools to his list. "Should I apply to MIT?" he asked to no one in particular. "I heard it was pretty brutal."

"If you're too worried about brutality, try California!" Clint suggested in a last-ditch attempt to get his kids to go to a public school. "UC San Diego is great for engineering kids! And Cals, you can go to UC Berkeley for chem! They'll let you in, no problem," he reassured them. "California loves out of state kids!"

"DAD." Nicky and Callie chorused.

"Ooh. Oklahoma! You guys can use the farm!"

"DAD!"

"You know," Natasha piped up, grinning, "there are some great universities in Moscow." Nicky and Callie shut up immediately, looking toward their mother with wide eyes. "Thought so. Now listen to your father and add those colleges to your list. They're not that bad."

"How'd you guys get into Harvard, anyway?" Callie asked. She motioned to the computer. "I'm not sure SHIELD'S budget stretches far enough for two college educations. Especially at Harvard."

"It doesn't," Clint sighed. "But Fury wanted his two best agents deep undercover, so we had to apply for financial aid." The twins nodded-despite Tony's insistence otherwise, they were both applying for financial aid. Besides, it wasn't as if their parents' paychecks were exactly _legal_...

"The, uh, FAFSA?" Nicky asked. He turned to Callie. "We still have to fill that out. Uncle Phil says to make us sound as poor as possible."

"Yeah, I had to be separated, unemployed and pregnant with two kids," Natasha snorted. "Welcome to your origin story, kids." Callie and Nicky looked at each other in amazement. Bobbi and Skye had disappeared into the kitchen some time ago, and emerged now with popcorn and drinks.

"We came from the need to complete a mission objective?!" Callie squawked. "You and Mom had us just so you could get into Harvard?!"

"It was for the mission!" Clint exclaimed. "We needed FAFSA!" Nicky was still looking at him like he'd grown an extra head. "I like your mother! And I like money! Plus, we'd been meaning to start a family for some time. And for the record," he said, pointing a finger at Callie. "You were expected. He, on the other hand," He pointed at Nicky. "Wasn't."

"Having two kids got you into Harvard?" Nicky exclaimed. "So why can't we get into schools the easy way? Why do we have to apply for scholarships?"

"I refuse to be a great-aunt this early," Skye said, smacking Nicky in the head. "But that's gotta be the greatest story _ever_!" She framed the headlines. " 'Twins and FAFSA: How I Got Into Harvard." When Clint and Natasha looked at her, she shrugged. "Go on! I wanna know how this story goes!"

* * *

_"For the last time, Clint, I'll be __fine__," Natasha assured him as they pulled up to the iron-wrought gates of Harvard University, Coulson pulling an exact braking job. "You know I'm just as capable of kicking someone's ass while I'm pregnant." Coulson had ambled to her side of the car, opening her door and helping her out. "Phil, I'm barely three months pregnant," she scowled. "I've barely started showing. I don't think you need to help me out of the damn car."_

_"Remember, Nat, the doctor said that with your...condition, the babies were very fragile," Coulson reminded her gently. "We have to do everything we can to make sure that the babies are safe, otherwise you'll lose financial aid and the entire mission tanks." The two of them walked up the special maternity door, Coulson pulling it open and holding it for her. Several other people saw her coming and pulled the other doors open-they must've assumed she was pregnant. She was moving into the maternity dorm, after all. _

_"Can I get you anything?"_

"_Here, let me get the door for you." _

"_Hi," An extremely attractive guy came up to Natasha, gently placing a hand on her stomach. It took everything in her not to recoil-after all, a normal college student would welcome the touch. "And hello, you little one," he said to the small bump, looking down at it. Slowly, he began to rub it. "I betcha you're going to be one hell of a baby. So tell me," he said, turning up to Natasha. "What's your name?"_

"_Her __name__ is Natalie, and I'm her father," Coulson scowled, making the guy look up in astonishment. "Don't you have people to help move?" Natasha fought off a round of laughter-she could tell Coulson was milking the paternal role for everything it was worth. Another step and he probably would whip out his gun. _

"Oh, god." Skye said in complete mortification. "Remind me to bring someone else to help me move in," she said to Bobbi, burying her head in her hands. "Like Mack. Or you and Hunter. I really don't need DC going all dad on me. Especially since he's learned those dad jokes."

"Hunter and Morse would probably end up having sex on the quad, though," Clint remarked quietly. Bobbi punched him in the arm. "It's true!"

"_Daaaaad," Natasha whined, half warningly and half embarrassedly. "Stop trying to scare off new people. I can do that on my own." The guy who'd been rubbing her stomach had already set off down the hallway, giving her a 'call me' sign. "And all of the guys around here probably do that." _

"_I know, honey," Coulson answered, falling into the role perfectly. "It's just hard to see my little girl all grown up," he sniffed, patting her shoulder. "And no thanks to that no-good Barton." They'd both agreed that Clint's name would be mentioned only in angry overtones, to help spread the story that he'd abandoned her upon finding out about her pregnancy. Coulson's grip tightened on her shoulder. "Just promise me that you'll be careful, okay, Nat?"_

"'_Kay, Dad," Natasha said, firmly removing his hand from her shoulder. "My room should be just down the right," she muttered, consulting the poorly-done map they'd printed out from the school's website. "Perfect." The cutouts baby bottles on the door had the words 'Natalie' and 'Maria' written on them. "Just __perfect__."_

"_I'll let you get settled in," Coulson said, bringing their cart to a haul. Dropping his voice, he said, "May's gone in to help Barton settle. Establish contact when you're both deep in." She nodded, and they hugged one last time before she pushed the door open. _

"_Hello?"_

"_Romanoff. Long time, no see."_

_Natasha hurriedly dragged the cart into the room, shutting the door with a loud BANG. "Maria? What the hell are you doing here?"_

_Maria Hill was standing on the other side of their dorm room, her hair up in its usual severe ponytail. This time, however, she wasn't clad in her usual SHIELD uniform. She'd opted for a more informal attire, with gray track shorts and a maroon Harvard hoodie. "It appears I'm in training for my nursing degree, and the school pairs nursing students with pregnant ones." _

"Wait wait wait wait wait," Callie interrupted. "Aunt Maria was there? She was your _roommate_?"

"Yeah, and I got freaking Garrett as mine," Clint answered. They all shuddered collectively. "At least we know Hill didn't have a chance of killing you in your sleep."

"Your Aunt Maria is a _horrible_ beer pong player," Natasha warned her children. "She can shoot a target from fifty feet out and run faster than most SHIELD agents, but she's _awful _when it comes to beer pong and DDR."

"_Fury sent you as a second reference point on this op, didn't he?"_

"_Coulson, actually," Hill answered. It made sense as to why Coulson had left her outside the door, now-he'd known she'd be in good hands. Natasha had half a mind to call him up and demand what the hell he was doing. "Plus, I've got access to all of the high-level research as a medical student. And if you go into labor, you're pretty much covered." _

"_I'm going to kill him," Natasha muttered. "Clint and I told him that we were perfectly capable of making it on our own. Still doesn't listen to us, does he?" _

_"Nat, you and Barton rarely listen to him," Hill pointed out, sticking a knife through another cardboard box Natasha had had stacked on the floor. She sliced the cover open, barely containing her laugh at the comforters and plushies she'd packed. "How much of this did you buy in the last week?" _

_"Laugh it up," Natasha rolled her eyes as Hill opened another box, this time filled with piles of maternity clothes. "I can still kick your ass after all of this, you know." With a raised eyebrow, Hill held up a small, blue elephant. "Okay, that one's from May. You know how she gets about kids. She and Andrew have been trying for some time now." _

_"Yeah, and soon she'll be stealing your kids," Hill snorted, tossing Natasha the elephant. "Okay, so there's a party tonight on the communal level," she told her. "Coulson says you have to go mingle, make friends with the saps who have science degrees. He also says join the maternity volleyball team. I have no idea why."_

"I do now," Natasha muttered, as Bobbi burst out laughing. "He just wanted to see my reaction when I found out Morse was playing."

"Is that why you won't play volleyball, Mom?" Nicky asked. "...'Cause Aunt Bobbi beat your butt to Asgard?"

"Okay, first of all, your Aunt Bobbi did _not _'kick my butt to Asgard', she...might have won a few games here or there," Natasha corrected. Bobbi rolled her eyes.

"Tasha, I whooped your ass into next week. You were looking behind you 'cause you thought it was flying over your head."

* * *

_"Good to know some pregnant people are still idiots," Natasha quipped later that night as they entered the party. "You'd think they'd have enough sense __not__ to have alcohol, but no." _

_There were pregnant women around every corner, some comparing ultrasounds, discussing their significant others, and still some murmuring about their baby's genetics. Hill gently pushed Natasha in that direction, sauntering off to the gossiping groups. _

_"I still can't believe those sluts are having alcohol," a blond was muttering. "Does she __want__ an alcoholic grandson? Like seriously." _

_"Bullshit," another one answered meanly, leaning forward. "I heard the guy she fucked already had gonorrhea. Way I look at it, kid's already fucked. She might as well screw over the next two generations." The rest of the group tittered, and Natasha frowned. Were college girls really this bitchy? _

_"I'm pretty sure he has AIDS," she answered casually, waiting for the rest of the group to turn to her. "I would know. My roommate almost slept with him." Silently, she hoped that Hill would never find out Natasha had thrown her under the bus-she wouldn't make it out alive if she had. _

_"What else do you know?" the blonde asked, and Natasha scanned the room thoughtfully, her eyes falling on those whose files she'd memorized. _

_"That one over there got boned by a guy from BU," she answered, pointing to a brunette. "That Asian one over there came here to escape her slut of a boyfriend __and__ to prevent her parents from finding out, and __that__," she said finally, pointing to Hill, "is Maria Holland. Rumor has it she slept with a tall, black guy with an eyepatch."_

_"What's your name?" It seemed like the blonde was doing all of the talking for the group, the rest of the girls content to sit back and judge her. Natasha stared back at all of them coldly-she'd seen Fury on a bad day, and this was nothing compared to that. _

_"Natalie Robinson," she answered, causally sticking out her hand. "Three months in and abandoned by my fucking bastard boyfriend. He actually fucking goes here," she said to the blonde, starting up her prerehearsed rant. "I work my ass off to get into this goddamned school, do every single goddamned odd job out there to save up the money, and now does he fucking repay me? With a baby and another fucking girlfriend," she snarled. "Fucking blonde. I am going to __kill__ that Barbara Mensington the next time I see her."_

"Wait, _what_?" Callie exclaimed, looking from Bobbi to Natasha, then back again. Then to Clint, her expression hurt. "Dad, you cheated on Mom with Aunt Bobbi? What-" She looked past the three of them, severely confused. "You were just covering, right?"

"I take offense to this," Clint and Bobbi answered, offended.

"I'm sorry," Bobbi quipped. "But he's not a merc. Or British. Or named Lance Hunter. So no, I'd rather not."

"Yeah, well, _your_ name isn't Hunter, either, and we've been waiting for god knows how long-" Almost boredly, Callie handed Bobbi the newspaper the Avengers kept specifically for this occasion. Bobbi raised it into the air and smacked Skye in the head. "Ow!" Skye rubbed the back of her head. "Still have a bit of a concussion there, you know, Morse."

_"Ashley Madison," the blonde girl answered, shaking Natasha's hand. "Welcome to the Genie Babes." _

_"You're not gonna run her, Ash?" another girl-this time, a curly-haired Filipino-asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Natasha. "I'm not sure she's what we need." She turned directly to Natasha. "Kellie, six months, bio major. Front spiker. You?" _

_"Chem," Natasha answered just as coolly. "First in my class. What the hell's a front spiker?" _

_"She'll be the perfect digger," Ashley said to Kellie. "Low to the ground, looks like she's got hella upper body strength...and can dish it like Regina George." A genuine smile appeared on her face. "Welcome to the team, Nat." _

_"Wait, what team?" She'd come here to make science friends, not get recruited. "What am I signing my twins up for?"_

_Ashley's grin only grew. "Why, volleyball, of course." _

_"The Genie Babes are the number one girls collegiate volleyball team in the city," Kellie told her. "Even though we're pregnant, we've got the best record since the Octo Moms of Northeastern, 1983." _

_"That's Ingrid, Jessie, Ginny, Deidre, and Adrianne," Ashley introduced, waving a hand at the each of them. "Jessie and Adrianne are five months in. They play middle. Deidre, Kellie and I all play front, since we're all over six months. You, Ingrid and Ginny are going to play back since you're under five months." _

_"We rotate as you go through, and if you go into labor before the season's over, you're guaranteed your spot on the squad until it is," the tall Asian (Jessie?) explained. "Practices are Tuesdays and Thursdays. Five to seven."_

_"Our first game is in three weeks against BU," Kellie said. "They've supposedly got a killer defense. Hopefully you're up to it." She gave Natasha a sidelong glance, as if she didn't quite believe Natasha was up for the task. _

_Natasha smirked. These girls had no idea what was coming._

* * *

_Over the next few weeks, Natasha got to know her teammates in every single way. Nights were spent memorizing details on their files, which Coulson had very nicely pulled for her. Her free hours were spent either socializing with the volleyball teams, trying to get in on their research, or keeping an eye out for HYDRA. _

_They'd all come from rich, well-off families. As she'd expected, Ashley had been the oldest, completing her medical schooling after undergrad work at Princeton. Kellie and Deidre were next, junior transfers from inner-city colleges. Jessie, Adrianne, and Ginny were all sophomores who had made it out of their small towns in the Midwest. Adrianne had been especially vehement towards her former town of Toledo, Ohio._

_"Bunch of hypocrites," she'd spat when Natasha had asked her why. "Always asking me if I'm going to go to a good college, then basically disown me when I make it into Harvard." She and Ingrid were the youngest, both freshmen that'd met an unfortunate road blocks in their education. _

_There was more to them than just volleyball, however. Kellie and Adrianne were both biochemistry majors. Ashley was on her way to become a full-time surgeon, passing internships in the nearby hospitals for credits. Jessie was a pre-med student with a minor in physics. Ginny and Deidre had both gone into biology, but were thinking about switching over to environmental. Which left Ingrid and Natasha as the team's chemistry majors, but science majors nonetheless. "It's our one prerecquisite," Ashley had said to Natasha. "You'll see why when we have our first pregame ritual." _

_Natasha wasn't sure she liked any scientific pregame rituals. _

_She'd almost forgotten her scheduled confrontation with Clint until a late-night text reminded her, her phone pinging when she was studying with Ingrid one night. _

_"Goddammit, he never gives up, does he," she muttered as Ingrid gave her a curious look, wondering why Natasha looked like she was going to smash her phone against a wall. "It's Clint," she explained. "He wants to give our relationship another go. Says he's fucking 'sorry'-" Air quotes were made around the word. "-that he cheated on me with Mensington." She rolled her eyes and returned to her chemistry book. "Fat chance in hell." _

_"Maybe he's honest this time around, Nat." Of all of them, Natasha liked Ingrid the most-she was small, quiet, naive and innocent; everything she wasn't. "Maybe you should consider giving him one more shot." Her boyfriend had died in a drunk driving accident their senior year; Ingrid had found out she was pregnant three weeks later. _

_"I don't think so, Thumper," Natasha smirked endearingly. (The nickname had stuck one day during practice, when Ingrid had released so much tension into a serve that the THUMP had been scared birds out of a nearby tree.) "I would, but this is his third time with Mensington. Boy can't make up his mind."_

_"And you went back to him?" Ingrid asked incredulously. "Girl, drop him like a flaming test tube!" Natasha gave her an apologetic look. _

_"It's an unfortunate thing that runs in the Rushman family," she said, almost sadly. "We women get treated like crap, but we always go back to them." In a show of pity, Ingrid took her hand, clutching it tightly. _

_"I'll go with you when you see him tomorrow," she offered. "Promise me you'll at least give it a shot?" _

_"The things I __do__ for you, Thump," Natasha teased, and Ingrid burst into a small giggle fit. "Alright, we're meeting tomorrow at three, I think. Violence may break out." _

"I'm not sure my right arm was ever the same again," Clint groaned. "Your mother," he said to Callie and Nicky, "twisted it a full 360 degrees before Ingrid pulled her off me."

"I was gonna go for 720, but she stopped me," Natasha shrugged. Callie's hand stopped short of searching for kernels in the empty bowl, only looking at it for the first time.

"Who's on popcorn duty?" Skye sighed mock-irritatingly before grabbing both bowls and stomping towards the kitchen.

"Don't you dare even think about starting up without me!"

_"Anyways," _Natasha began loudly, just to let Skye know she was starting (after all, it was the reason she was stuck telling this story in the first place!). Skye flipped her the bird. "So Ingrid and I met your father on the central quad the next day..."

_"There he is," Natasha said, grabbing Ingrid's arm so they stopped short. "Look, over there." She pointed to where a dirty blonde was casually leaning against a tree, talking to a other redhead. "Oh, look. Another girlfriend."_

_"Don't jump to conclusions, Nat." Ingrid warned her. "You don't want to cause a scene that isn't there." Natasha visibly relaxed at that. _

_"You're right," she said gratefully to her friend. "What would I do without you?" _

_"Blow up the place, maybe," Ingrid joked, and Natasha made a small sound of assentment-it might have been true, had she not been concerned about taking potential HYDRA informants with it. And plus, she was getting to like the girls. _

_"Natalie," Clint said loudly, suddenly noticing her. He said something to the redhead in front of him, and she scurried off, looking thoroughly depressed. "Long time no see, honey. How you been?" He slowly eyed Ingrid up and down, making her roll her eyes. "And who's this beauty we got here? Hi, I'm Clint," he said charmingly, holding out his hand. Ingrid stared at it. "No? Cool." _

_"And this is why I dumped his sorry ass," Natasha said, throwing an arm around Ingrid. "The charm is nice, but not when it isn't directed at you. Hope you go to hell, Clinton." she called as she turned and walked away. _

_"Nat! Wait!" On cue (she'd planned this completely with Clint the night before), Natasha turned around, one eyebrow raised. "Look, I didn't...I know I messed up," he admitted, slumping against the tree a bit. "Bobbi was a mistake, and always will be. You're the only one I want," he begged. "Please, Nat. Let's give this another chance." _

_"Oh, so her name's __Bobbi__ now," Natasha seethed, crossing her arms. "Good to know you've slept with her enough to call her by her nickname. Tell me, is she pregnant yet? Or were you actually smart enough to use protection?" _

_"Look, Nat, I-" He was cut off by Natasha suddenly grabbing his arm and twisting it to an ugly angle, leaning down to whisper in his ear, _

_"You got anything on HYDRA?" _

_"Ow, Nat, no," Clint gasped, "Put my arm back, will you?" _

_"I'd like to try for 720," Natasha hissed, twisting his arm a little further. "I got nothing, either," she answered quietly. "None of the girls I'm friends with seem to know anything about the sciences HYDRA'S rumored to be doing." _

_"Nat, let him go," Ingrid argued, reaching towards her friend. With one last loathing look, Natasha let go of Clint's arm and let herself get dragged away by Ingrid. _

_"WE ARE NEVER, EVER, EVER GETTING BACK TOGETHER." she hollered over her shoulder. "MAYBE HELL SHOULD FREEZE OVER FIRST." _

"I'd like to point out that hell maybe did freeze over when we sent Ward back for the final time," Callie remarked bitterly as she threw a piece of popcorn into Skye's mouth across the table. "Just maybe."

"Well, if he comes back like he's likely to," Bobbi scoffed, following up her shot into Skye's mouth with her own piece of popcorn. "We'll cut off his head and put it through a wood chipper. I've always wanted to put meat through a wood chipper." Callie and Nicky slowly moved away from Bobbi, Callie looking like she was reconsidering going to Georgia Tech.

"_I guess I was wrong about him," Ingrid admitted as she and Natasha headed back to their dorm, their arms linked together. "I'm sorry, Nat, I shouldn't have told you to go see him again." _

"_I would've believed him too," Natasha answered quietly after some time. "It's hard not to pull yourself away from Clint Coulson," she said. "Once he pulls you in, you can't truly get out. And not everyone's had the life you had," she told her. "I can completely understand where you're coming from."_

"_It's the small town naivete," Ingrid told her sadly. "I don't want people to see me as just the small town hick that got knocked up. It's not __like__ that. I'm meant to be here. I want to make a difference in the world, you know?"_

"_I know," Natasha answered quietly, pulling her friend closer to her. "Come on. Let's go get a cup of cider and watch some Netflix or something, alright? We're going to need it before we play BU in a couple of days."_

* * *

"_Nat." There was a pounding on Natasha and Hill's door at midnight three days later. Hill stirred, scrubbing at her face as the pounding on their door intensified. "Naaaaat. Natalie Robinson, get your ass out of bed or so help me."_

"_Your teammates are natural charmers," Hill muttered as Natasha grumbled, pushing her blankets off and getting out of bed. She joined her roommate as Hill swung the door open, blearily glaring at Ashley, who was standing at the door. _

"_Nat. Come on. Pre-game ritual," Ashley was standing at the door, looking bright and chipper. "Grab a black coat and let's go." _

"_Why would you automatically assume I own a black coat?" Natasha grumbled as she opened the door wider, allowing Ashley into her room. She found said black coat in her closet, tugging it over her shoulders and following her captain outside. "What's going on?"_

_The rest of the girls were already gathered on the lawn, their own black coats on. Ingrid looked just as nervous as Natasha did, while the rest of them looked excited. As they fell into step, Ingrid whispered to Natasha, "Do you know what's going on?"_

"_Pre-game ritual," Natasha whispered back. "That's all Ash would tell me before I got out here." They continued to traipse through campus, stopping at the gate. Looking around, Ginny carefully unlocked the gate, letting it fall open for them to go through. The streets of Boston were still crowded at this point of the night, cars struggling to get through to their destination. _

"_We're going to that building over there," Jessie called, pointing a finger at a tall, menacing brick building. "Make sure you cross the street carefully." Natasha's trepidation only increased as they neared it; she didn't have a good feeling about this. _

"_What the hell are we doing?" Kellie muttered as they came up to the front of the building, Ashley swiping a card on a nondescript black box, a light going on and beeping as they were let in. "Is this some sort of intro ritual or something?"_

"_Welcome to the Genie Lab," Ashley said as she pulled the door open, the girls filing in one by one. "This is where we further our studies-and we like to focus on genetics and stuff. It's part of the hope that as a Genie Babe, you'll contribute some work to our ongoing research. All science fields have something to give, so don't feel left out! After all," she said as she switched on the light, "all discovery requires experimentation." _

Skye, Callie and Nicky all let out loud squawks of fear. Bobbi just raised an eyebrow and attempted to throw another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

"You walked into a HYDRA lab, Mom?" Nicky asked incredulously. "The volleyball team was a front for HYDRA's genetic research?" Natasha sighed, nodding.

"They wanted to use our babies to further their genetic research, to see if theories that they tested would work on the babies," she said bitterly. "Most of the girls didn't even _want _their babies, so it was easy to convince them to give up their spawn for testing once they were birthed."

_Natasha could hardly believe her eyes. The one thing she'd been looking for her entire time and it was right under her nose. No wonder she hadn't found it before. "All I'll need is an octopus logo and we'll be good," she muttered to herself. The lights flickered on at that moment, revealing rows and rows of fresh test tubes, flasks, and beakers. There was even a giant Newton's Cradle in the corner. And, of course, there was the unmistakable octopus lit up above it all, the black and red looking extremely out of place among the innocent scientific equipment. _

_"It's a pregame ritual that all of the girls spend the night sleeping in the lab before a game," Ashley explained. She waved to a corner Natasha hadn't seen before, which was moodily lit with beanbags, pregnancy pillows, and blankets. Deidre chose that moment to let out a huge yawn, and Ashley laughed. "I thought as much. Get some sleep, guys."_

_Natasha made sure that every last one of them had fallen asleep (even Ingrid, she couldn't risk her knowing) before grabbing her phone out of her pocket, hitting 3 on her speed dial. "May, I've got it," she whispered in the completely dark room. "I'm in the lab. The volleyball team's a front for HYDRA." _

_"Good job, Romanoff," May answered. "Stay on the team. Find out their research goals. And keep your cover by any means. I'll tell Coulson." She paused. "Are there any names you want for investigation?"_

_"No, it's still early," Natasha replied. "Half of the team is made of transfers, and I'm not really sure any of them know about what HYDRA really is. __Maybe __ Ashley Madison," she said. "She seems to know everything there is about the place," _

_"Okay, I'll tell Coulson," May replied. She paused. "Are you doing alright, Nat?" _

_Natasha smiled a bit: she knew May wasn't just talking about the op. "They're fine," she reassured her, and May gave a quiet sigh of relief. It was no secret May was one of the twins' biggest fans; Natasha and Clint had already discussed naming she and Coulson honorary grandparents. "I think one of them really likes that stuffed elephant you got me. Starts kicking whenever I take it away from their side."_

Nicky blanched at the thought of his tiny, blue stuffed elephant that was tucked away in a small alcove made from his blankets. "Mom," he began slowly. "You're not talking about-"

"Wait, Nicky was attached to Rudy _before _he even came out of the womb?" Callie crowed. She turned to Nicky. "Wow, Uncle Lance is gonna be pissed you chose Aunt May's elephant over his."

"I thought they both looked alike!" Nicky exclaimed. "And besides, Uncle Lance didn't get me an elephant. He got me a giraffe."

"Which you still chose the elephant over," Hunter argued as he entered, toting a six pack of beer. "Skye called, said alcohol was needed?" Skye held her hand up, catching a beer. "Now, what's going on? We telling the kids' origin story or something?"

"Just that, Hunter, glad you caught on," Bobbi drawled with an affectionate roll of her eyes. "Apparently Nicky had an unhealthy attachment to May's elephant."

"Yeah, and you, on the other hand, had an unhealthy attachment to Morse's penguin," Natasha said to Callie, who blushed at the mention of the small penguin she cuddled with every night. "I don't think you let go of it _once _until you were three. Tony has the pictures to prove it."

"She still does," Nicky muttered, and Callie slapped him upside the head. "Ow! Don't blame me for telling the truth, Cals!"

_"Well, I'm glad one of them will be attached to me at some point," May chuckled, eliciting a chuckle from Natasha as well. "Get some rest, Romanoff. I hear you play BU tomorrow." _

_"Sure, May,"_

* * *

_Months passed in this fashion-Natasha would go to class, hang out with the girls, go to games, and study. About once a month or so, they'd spend the night in the lab, cuddled up with maternity pillows and each others reassurances. Her belly grew bigger, as did her status in the group: during their first game, Natasha had managed to score a whopping five points from her place in the back. Her five month period approached, and she was promoted to middle with the rest of her back row. _

_As per regulation, she spent a copious amount of time in the Genie Lab, researching everything there was to know about Harvard and their HYDRA connections. It turned out every single field had at least some connection, from altering history books to teaching code. She said as much to May, and Clint...whenever she could see him. _

_"They've got biochemistry formulas on attempts to recreate the super soldier serum," she whispered to Clint one day at lunch. "And they've got physics majors calculating best trajectories for their snipers. It's crazy." _

_"They're testing their serum variants on their athletes," Clint whispered back, hiding his face behind a newspaper. "Not all of them are turning out well." Natasha turned pale as she listened to Clint describe the effects of the serums; most of them sounded like what Kellie and Adrianne had concocted in the labs. _

_"So they're a campus-wide operation," she said to him. "Barton, we're way over our heads." He gave her an appraising look, shaking his head. _

_"Who are we going to call in for backup? May? Coulson? You know they wouldn't pass the test as well as we would. Neither would Hunter, and Rogers would blow our cover faster than we could tell him not to. We don't have any options, Nat," _

"You _did _have options, you just chose not to tell me Morse was up to her neck undercover," Natasha muttered.

_"Then what's our plan?" Natasha asked, shovelling another bite of her 'pregnancy-approved' meals into her mouth. Hill had made it for her earlier, claiming it contained everything she would need. "Obviously, we can't just let them keep testing. But we can't covertly get rid of all the data, either." _

_"We'll have to think about that when the time comes," Clint advised her, stealing a bite of her potato salad. "Wow, this actually tastes good," he muttered through a full mouth. "Give my compliments to Hill." _

_She smacked him in the shoulder. "You know she'd make you some if you asked. She'd probably just throw it in your face, though. For all those times you screwed over your paperwork." He dared to steal another bite, and she rolled her eyes, shoving the whole container at him. "Here. You look like you need it more than I do." _

"_Do I ever," Clint answered, beginning to shovel it down. "I made it onto the archery team-they've got me first circle in every single competition. We practice four days in a week. I'm starting to think they're catching onto who I am. Not that I'm letting them, of course," he sputtered, his mouth still full. "My cover is still 100% safe."_

"_Good." Natasha wasn't sure if she'd be able to make the op without Clint. For some inexplicable reason, she __needed__ him to get through this op, as infrequent their meetings were. Perhaps it was the idea of facing an unknown force alone that rattled her. Taking on HYDRA wasn't anything someone would want to do alone, much less alone and pregnant. "Okay, so the team's going to playoffs next week," she said to Clint, who looked up in acknowledgement while still chowing down. "We got sponsored by the school to go play in New York."_

"_Oh, cool," Clint said, his fork a blur between the container and his mouth. "Who're you guys playing?" He gulped quickly. "I heard Notre Dame's got a mean set of middles. And Kenyon's got a hell of a front spiker that I'm pretty sure puts Ashley to shame." _

"_Georgia Tech, I think," Natasha answered, frowning a bit. She could've sworn Clint's fork almost missed his mouth before he caught himself, going back to his gusto. "Know anything about them?"_

"Hey, I know they had a hella back spiker," Bobbi chimed in with a Southern accent, causing Skye to choke on her beer. "Cute as a button but could kick your ass to next Thursday. I would have," she said to Natasha, "but I kicked it to next Friday instead."

"_Nothing," Clint said a little too quickly. "I didn't take the time to look at them, didn't think they'd end up making the playoffs. You'll do fine, Nat," he said, his mouth full once again. "Maria's going to go with you, isn't she? If anything complicated comes up, she's trained to handle you. Well," he deadpanned, "she's supposed to be." _

"_Nothing's going to go wrong," she assured him (and partially herself), standing up and wrapping her sweater around herself. "We're going to go down there, beat the shit out of Georgia Tech, and make our way to finals. We still on for the next week?" she asked. Clint nodded. "Cool." She looked around before leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll see you then."_

"_Nat," he said, looking right into her green eyes for the first time. "Be careful, alright? These two are for more than just the mission, you know." His eyes fell on the sizeable bulge of her belly. "They're the future we have together. I love them more than anything, and they haven't even been born yet." _

"_I know, Clint," she said softly, placing a hand on her stomach. "They started kicking yesterday. I'm not sure which one it was, but they're alive and kicking," Taking his hand, she placed it on her stomach. Instantly, one of the twins started kicking, and Clint's face lit up as if he'd been promoted to Deputy Director. _

"_That's them," he whispered excitedly, his eyes bright. "That's what we've created. Hi there," he whispered, leaning in to Natasha's stomach. "I'm Clint, your daddy. Are you Callie, or are you Nicky?" he asked. Since they'd found out they were having twins, there had been long arguments involving names. Natasha had wanted something __slightly__ Russian, a small nod to her home country-after all, it was what had given her Clint. Clint had wanted something old-fashioned American, something that demonstrated his reluctance to be in the present times. In the end, they'd settled for Catalina and Nikolai, fulfilling both of their demands. _

"_I think Callie likes you better," Natasha told him as her stomach let out a thump. "The other side starts kicking around May's elephant, which is probably Nicky. And he never kicks when I'm with him." She spoke down to the rotund bump on her stomach. "Isn't that right, Nikolai? You really do like May's elephant, huh?"_

"You know, it's kind of sad that Bahrain happened," Skye remarked quietly. "May would have made the greatest grandmother. AC would've been thrilled." A somber silence settled around the table, a silent tribute to what could have been. "I kind of wish I'd met that May."

"She's getting better," Clint answered, his lips pursed. "And I think having you around was the start of it," he said to Skye. "There's no denying the twins definitely helped, because she was around you guys all the time. But I think she took the first real step with you and FitzSimmons. You three were like the kids she never had."

"May _was_ the mom I never had. Jaiying doesn't count," Skye said, quietly sipping at her beer. "Don't ever tell her I said that, because I'm scared that if she finds out, she'll stop being a mom. And Fitz needs a mom, especially when it comes to advice on Simmons."

"I think we'll see her just yet," Natasha was the one who broke the reminiscence, sounding strangely emotional. "We might get back that old May we used to see soon."

* * *

"_I'm so glad we got a bus with a bathroom in the back," Jessie remarked as she emerged from the mobile bathroom, clutching her stomach as the coach bus rumbled down the highway. "I don't think we could stand to pull over every ten miles when one of us had to pee." _

"_Yeah, well, I'm just thankful about that rigup Jessie made last week," Adrianne snorted from where she was playing Operation with Ashley, the corner of her mouth twitching as she hit the edge once more with her scalpel. "No wonder you became a surgeon," she muttered to Ashley. "I don't think I've gotten a single thing out." _

"_Bathroom doesn't smell, either, thanks Nat," Ginny called from her front seat on the bus, her feet thrown across the row. "Who knew you could use chemicals for other things instead of blowing stuff up." _

_Truthfully, Natasha had been experimenting with ways to physically blow up the Genie Lab when she'd discovered the compound, but she wasn't about to complain. After all, she __did__ have to pee..and the bathroom smelled wonderfully like watermelon. _

"_I gotta piss," she grunted to Hill, who put her magazine down and raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, Maria, I am aware I went pee thirty minutes ago. But I am over five months pregnant. I need to pee all the time. Accept it and move on." Hill just sighed and stood up, letting Natasha pass and waddle towards the back of the bus._

"_And you wonder why I asked you if you wanted to sit on the outside."_

"_Where's the fun in that?" she called back as she forced the door open, stepping inside. "I swear to god, I will never complain about peeing again," she muttered as she maneuvered herself to sit, cursing when her stomach got in the way. _

"_CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!" _

_Natasha shot up, a piece of toilet paper hanging in her hand. A code blue meant that one of their team members was going into labor, and all hands had to be on deck, regardless of major. Cleaning herself up as quickly as she could (one of Ingrid's major contributions had been a better hand sanitizer), she rushed into the aisle of the bus, clutching the seats as she was mildly thrown off by the acceleration of the bus. _

_Deidre was sitting in her seat in absolute shock as her water dripped to the floor, most of it already having been absorbed by the seat. (Natasha was secretly glad the school was springing for the trip, otherwise the cleaning bill would've been a bitch.) She clutched the armrests with a white-knuckled grip, Ashley at her side to try and calm her down. _

"_Deidre, listen to me. You're going to be just fine." Hill was also at Deidre's side, her professional mode slipping on. "You need to take deep and shallow breaths. Can you do that?" To help, Ashley and Adrianne mimicked her, breathing in and out sharply. Ingrid had gone up front, presumably to tell the driver to pull over. "Girls, we're going to have a baby right on this bus," she announced. "Start thinking of names, Deidre."_

"_I can't do this," Deidre panted, forgoing the breathing exercises and skipping straight to hyperventilating. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to remember this for the rest of my life." Adrianne scrambled for her phone, setting it to tape. "Yeah. Good idea. If this goes wrong," she threatened to Hill, "I'm suing your ass." _

"_Well, good thing I'm in for my second doctorate," Hill quipped as the bus pulled over to a stop in front of a CVS. "Okay, I'm going in for supplies," she called to the rest of the team. "Requests?"_

"_Chips!"  
_

"_Soda!"_

"_Coffee!"_

"_Okay, so that means I'm not listening to any of you," Hill muttered as she dashed out of the bus. "I'll be back in five!"_

"_Listen to me, Deidre, you gotta breathe," Jessie advised her, clutching her shoulders. "I promise it's going to make everything much easier. Remember how Ash and Adrianne did it? Short and shallow." She began to suck air in and out forcefully. "Now just do as I do." _

"_You're gonna do this, Deidre," Natasha said, her voice calm and collected. "We're not going to let anything happen to your kid, alright?" She knew she was making promises she couldn't keep, but hey. Whatever worked. "We're a team. We don't leave anyone behind."_

"_We're going to need to get her situated," Jessie called, already pushing up the armrest on Deidre's right. Deidre flailed, searching for something to hold onto before latching onto Ginny's arm with a pincelike grip. "Ginny, I need you to get behind her and get her back against the wall. Kellie, find something to prop her lower back up. Maria better be back with a blanket." Deidre was soon lying against a wall of the bus, Hill having dashed back in with gloves, a blanket, and a notebook. _

"_Okay, let's do this," she said determinedly to Jessie. Luckily for all of them, Deidre had worn a skirt, making it easy for them to see where the baby was coming from. "Wow. That was fast." Hill blinked. "She's at ten. We're gonna have to push. Ingrid, what's our ETA to New York?" she called._

"_Fifty minutes." _

"_Perfect," Hill muttered to herself. "Tell him to step on it." She snapped on her gloves, giving Deidre a serious look. "You're going to have to get ready to push. Grab onto the seat handle if you'd like to. Ready?"_

"_No," Deidre panted, the sweat pouring down her face. "I can't do this, Maria. I can't. I wasn't prepared for this." The panic was clear and bright, and Deidre was shaking, moments away from a full-on panic attack. _

"_Deidre," Ashley said seriously. "Remember everything that you went through for this kid. Think about everything that we've done that's going to make this kid great." At that, Deidre's resolve seemed to strengthen, and her expression grew steely. Hill exchanged a curious, yet worried glance with Natasha. They'd talk about that later._

"_Let's do this."_

"_Then for the love of God, __push__," Hill ordered. For the next few minutes, the bus was silent, except for the sounds of Deidre screaming, Hill's orders, and the rumble of the bus on the pavement. _

"_You're doing great, Deidre."_

"_Come on, just keep pushing."_

"_All you gotta do is push, you're doing great." _

"_I always thought I'd have a husband telling me to push," Deidre muttered as she came down from a painful contraction. "Never thought it'd be a friend of a teammate." She screamed again as she pushed through another contraction. _

"_I can see the head!" Ashley exclaimed from her spot next to Hill. "I can see the baby's head, Deidre!" Deidre took that as another cue to push as hard as she could, the baby's body finally falling into Hill's hands. "It's a boy," she stammered out softly as the baby in Hill's hands began to cry. "Deidre, you've got yourself a boy."_

"_He has your eyes," Nat cooed from behind Hill, watching as the baby opened his eyes, revealing a startling bright golden brown. "This kid's going to be adorable, yes he is."_

"Hey, how come none of these kids ever came around to hang out with us, then?" Nicky demanded. "I would've liked some more friends as a kid, you know." Callie smacked him on the arm.

"They didn't know Mom was _mom, _you doofus," she said, rolling her eyes. "And plus, I'm pretty sure there was something wrong with that kid. No one ever has bright brown eyes," she declared pensively, her mind already whirring. "No one. Not even if you're some awesome product of genetic nature like Aunt Bobbi or Aunt Pepper. Or Uncle Lance, as the case may be."

Bobbi sighed. "Skye, let's add 'help Callie love herself' day again to the calendar real soon."

"I don't have a problem with being seen as a product of awesome genetics," Hunter threw in. "I'll pass the word on to my mum. She'll be glad to hear someone around here appreciates her hard work."

"_Did you think of any names?" Jessie asked as Hill expertly swaddled the blanket around the baby, handing him to Deidre and beginning to determine aftercare. The bus pulled a hazardous right turn into the hospital parking lot, throwing all of them into separate rows. _

"_Alright, Nat, Ginny, Ingrid, can you guys give Deidre a hand? I'd do it, but you guys are the ones the __least__ likely to pop," Adrianne explained, heaving herself out of a seat and waddling off of the bus, a hand pressed to her stomach. "I don't think we need any more labors soon." Together, the three of them managed to lift the new mother off of the bus, carrying her right into the hospital's emergency room, where Ashley and Kellie were explaining the situation to the nurse at the desk. _

_It was a rush of people, carts and equipment as Deidre was instantly admitted to the hospital, Ashley up front reciting any sort of medical information that was needed. She had to know it all-she was the captain of a maternity team, after all. It __did__ creep Natasha out a little bit that Ashley knew so much, though, and she made a mental note to check with May to make sure that her file was tightly sealed at the school. _

"_Everyone out except family," the doctor ordered, much to the loud protests to the team. "And no, I don't want to hear the stories about how 'you guys are the only family she's got'. I've heard that story too many times over my career." _

"_You've got to let one of us in," Natasha protested. "At least one of us, to act as her family. Everyone she's got she left behind somewhere in the middle of the country. They're not around here." The doctor turned to her, and she stared back just as fearlessly, calling upon a bit of her own training to do so. _

"_Fine," the doctor finally relented. "One of you gets to stay. Only one," she said as the team looked on the verge of cheering. "And make sure you pick well. They're going to have to answer a lot of questions."_

"_Ashley," the girls murmured in unison. It made sense, after all-she was the team's captain, and had already answered a multitude of questions on Deidre's condition. "Ashley, you go." Ashley squared her shoulders, following the doctor into the room. _

_Hill drew Natasha aside. "I don't like it," she confessed uneasily in low tones. "She shouldn't have given birth that fast. It should have taken another half hour, at the very least. And there's no way a baby has eyes that are naturally that color. There's something seriously up with that baby." _

"_I don't like it either," Natasha agreed quietly. "There's no way we can get a blood sample on the baby, though, especially because we didn't get to do the preliminary bloodwork when the baby was born. The only way we'd be able to get it is if we hacked the mainframe." _

"_Call Barton and have him do it," Hill told her. "It shouldn't be that difficult that he shouldn't be able to access it." Natasha nodded, pulling out her phone. "Tell him we're going to need medical records pulled on a baby born today, last name Roberts. Mother's name is Deidre. I can get the first name of the baby if you need it." _

"_So is she going to be cleared to play, Doctor?" Ashley asked, concern mirrored in her features. "We play Georgia Tech in three days. We can't afford to be a player short-otherwise we're going to be disqualified from the playoffs."_

"_She shouldn't be able to, but it looks like she will be," the doctor replied, checking between Deidre's legs. "She'll be well enough to be discharged tomorrow, but I'd advise one day of bed rest, even with her hastened healing rate." _

"_That sounds fine," Ashley was nodding, as if everything the doctor was saying went along with the theories she, Hill and Jessie had come up with. "Are there papers that I need to sign, or something?"_

"_The school has agreed to take care of all expenses," the doctor answered, which puzzled Natasha. If Deidre had gotten pregnant of her own volition, why would the __school__ be paying for anything?_

_Unless they hadn't had the babies on their own.__ The thought struck Natasha dumb, and she stood still in the hallway for a moment, wondering just how May, Coulson and Fury had gotten her and Clint into Harvard. Had HYDRA really scoped out potential mothers to spawn children for genetic testing? _

"_Natalie? Are you alright?" It was Hill and Ingrid who came up to flank her, and she blinked. "We're all heading to the hotel to get some rest." Natasha exchanged a look with Hill, signaling that they were due for a catch-up. _

"_Yeah, I'm fine," Natasha answered, brushing off Ingrid's concerned look. __Ingrid...__ The poor girl was mixed up in all of this unintentionally, she realized. Her boyfriend really had died in an accident during her senior year, and she hadn't been chosen to produce a HYDRA spawn. _

_That was, if her theory proved true. "I'm just a little taken aback by everything that happened today." _

"_Trust me, I am too," Ingrid answered, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "I just want to get a couple days' worth of good rest. And maybe some macaroni and cheese." Hill and Natasha laughed at that, and together, they headed towards the doors of the hospital. _

"Did she come out alright?" Callie asked. "Was Ingrid okay?" Clint and Natasha paused, deciding on how to tell her.

"That'll come in time, Cals," Skye said, reaching over for her arm. She'd read the entire file, knowing that there were details that hadn't turned out so well. "You'll learn about what happened to them soon."

* * *

"_This is a hell of a lot bigger than we thought it would be," Natasha whispered to Hill later that night in their hotel room. "Most of these girls are transfers. And yet they're all part of some huge HYDRA science experiment. How else would the school agree to have a maternity volleyball team? Or pay for all of their medical expenses just like that?"_

"_Ashley did come from Princeton-it's a pretty well-known school," Hill agreed, retying her ponytail. "She could have been part of a division over there and then gotten a transfer here. I've seen them in classes with me," she said. "They talk a lot about how the things they're testing have the power to create great things." _

"_Great, inhuman things that we really don't need on our hands," Natasha muttered, flopping back onto the bed. "So Harvard partnered with HYDRA to actively bring in subjects, get them pregnant, and used their babies to conduct their scientific research." She frowned. "That still doesn't fit in with what Clint told me, though. He heard that they're trying out variants of serums on the athletes. Does that mean this extends to the athletic program, too?"_

"_This might extend further than we'd ever thought," Hill exhaled, pulling out her own phone. "I think there's only one way to figure this out." She pushed 2 on her speed dial, flopping onto the bed beside Natasha as they waited for the call to connect. _

"_Coulson." _

"_How the hell did you get Clint and I into Harvard?" Natasha demanded, leaning over the phone. "Did you weave some story about how we were willing to give our lives for scientific causes or something?" _

"_I had to, Nat," Coulson answered, sounding weary. "They wouldn't have taken you otherwise. You had to be pregnant with kids, a science major, and good at what you did. HYDRA wants viable human bodies no one's going to miss. I take it you found out about the span all over the country?"_

"_They all came from well-off schools or started here, Phil," Natasha retorted. "Hill and I have just walked into a giant HYDRA conspiracy theory. What if they find out who we really are?" She had no doubt her unborn twins would get subjected to testing, and she'd go to hell before she'd let that happen. _

"_They're not going to find out who you really are." Coulson assured her, the complete calm in his voice somehow influencing her as well. "I've buried your lead deep enough that no one's going to find out your cover. Nothing's going to happen to the twins, I promise." _

"_They'd better now," Natasha muttered. The last thing she needed was a poor soul like Ingrid to get mixed up in this entire business. "We gotta go, Phil, one of the girls on the squad went into labor today and we've got to be moralistic support."_

"_Right, I forgot, you play Georgia Tech in a few days," Coulson answered, sounding every bit the father he'd signed on to play. "Remember, no boys, no flings, only volleyball, okay, honey?" Natasha rolled her eyes. _

"_Yes, Dad."_

"_Good. I'll see you in two weeks." _

"_Nat, Maria, come on," Jessie and Kellie were pounding at the door. "Deidre's about to choose her baby's name." _

_Natasha grabbed Hill's arm. "Wouldn't want to miss that," she said in a low tone. "It'll give us a reference point for Clint to find out later." Hill nodded. "Coming!" she shouted to Jessie. "Just lemme get these...goddammit, Maria, I don't need your help with these damn pants..."_

"_For chrissakes, Nat, let me help you," Hill had immediately picked up on the cover, playing along perfectly. "It's just pants." _

"_We'll...we'll just be waiting in Deirdre's room," Jessie said nervously, and they could hear the sounds of shuffling away. Hill and Natasha quickly grabbed for their things and headed out the door." _

"_If we do establish that they're all part of HYDRA," Hill hissed as she and Natasha made their way down the hallway, "how are we supposed to bring it down?"_

"_Coulson didn't specify how," Natasha whispered, her eyes darting around to see if anyone on the team was watching them, "he just said 'make sure it gets done'. Then again," she deadpanned with a snort, "there is a reason they call Barton the wetworks specialist." Hill held back her coarser remarks on the affair-they didn't have time for that at the moment. _

"_Did we miss anything?" Hill asked as the two of them stumbled in, seeing the rest of the squad gathered around Deidre. "Please tell me we still get to throw baby names into the circle. I've been waiting for this ever since the damn baby was born." _

"_Throw your name into the hat," Kellie said, grandly handing them a large hat that was filled with papers. "So far, there's a couple of Georges, a Fred, and I think a Chris. Ginny wanted to name him Harry, but we couldn't tell if that was her Harry Potter kicking in or her Directioner." Ginny grinned unapologetically. _

"_Either way, it'll be a cute kid!" she exclaimed, rubbing her own stomach. "Plus, if there's a Harry, I'll have a kid so we can name him Ron!" Natasha and Hil exchanged looks-it was like the girls had planned on this beforehand. _

_Definitely not a coincidence, __ Natasha said mentally to Hill. _

_Most definitely not._

"_Okay, girls, listen up," Ashley clapped her hands together, effectively silencing the chatter of the squad. "We've only got 72 hours until we play Georgia Tech. These bitches are going to be the toughest team we've ever played-they won their state championship three years in a row. It doesn't help that we've got one girl fresh out of labor-nothing to you, Deirdre," Deirdre inclined her head gracefully. "so we've got to work five hundred times harder than we usually do." _

"_Georgia Tech's got this massive girl in the back," Kellie spoke up, holding up a notebook that contained their plays. "Almost six feet. Now, that's going to be a challenge for the peeps in the back, especially now that front row's been moved back there. So what we've got to do is ensure that no one in the back ever has to start diving for the ball. Got it?" The squad nodded. _

"_Middles, you'll have to do the diving, and if y'all in the front have to start going down low for it, don't hesitate," Ashley declared. "It's a risky strategy we're taking here, but we've got to be ready for that backer." _

"_Another thing," Adrianne declared suddenly, as everyone turned to look at her. "Georgia Tech is a _mean _trash-talker. I went to school with some of them. They'll talk up a game like no one's business. Don't be afraid to be a bitch, because they've got it coming to them." _

"Man, what I would've given to be at that match," Skye commented idly, reaching for some popcorn. "Romanoff trash-talking Morse...that's almost as good as May fighting your mother," she said to Callie and Nicky.

"The difference is, one of those happened. The other didn't," Natasha said. Bobbi absentmindedly rubbed her back.

"Yeah. Not sure my tailbone was ever the same shape again."

"_Who's gonna kill it?" Ingrid yelled. _

"_We are!" the rest of the girls answered. _

"_Who's gonna kill it?"_

"_We are!"_

"_WHO'S GONNA KILL IT?"_

"_WE ARE!"_

"_WHAT TEAM?" _

"_GENIE BABES!"_

"_WHAT TEAM?" _

"_GENIE BABES!" _

"_GENIE BABES!"_

"_KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE BALL!"_

"_WILL YOU SHUT UP?" Instantly, Ashley whirled on the voice, poking her head out and yelling, _

"_SHUT UP AND GO BACK TO DROWNING IN YOUR DRINK!" The rest of the girls snickered, giving each other high-fives. Ashley just smirked and tossed her long hair back, revelling in the attention. _

"_Yup. Definitely HYDRA," Natasha muttered under her breath. "There's nowhere else you'd get that sass."_

* * *

_The morning of the game dawned bright and early. Birds chirped, the sun shone, and Natasha had expected it to be a perfectly normal morning. That was unfortunately punctuated by the sharp pierce of Ashley's whistle, waking up the entire squad. "EVERYONE UP!"_

_"Even if she wasn't HYDRA, I'd turn her in just for using that goddamned whistle," Natasha threatened as she stirred, the twins gently kicking her stomach. "Way to keep me up last night, you two," she muttered to them. "Last night was an awful night to give me a pep talk." The whistle blew again, stabbing through Natasha's sleepy fog. _

_"COME ON GIRLS, UP AND AT EM!"_

_"Goddammit, Madison, we're getting up," Hill hollered, delving deeper into her blankets. "I swear to god, I wasn't up this early even when I was in the Academy." Natasha echoed the sentiment, tugging her blankets closer around herself and her unborn children. "Wake me up when the sun's actually risen." _

_"NAT! MARIA! YOU'RE THE LAST ONES UP! GET YOUR BELLIES MOVING!" With a long-suffering groan, Natasha and Maria rolled out of bed (in Natasha's case, literally) and stumbled towards their suitcases, looking for clothes. _

_"God fucking...Maria," Natasha whined. "I don't think I can touch my toes." She exhaled helplessly. "I don't think I can even _see _my toes. How I'm still playing is beyond me," Hill darted over and grabbed Natasha's team jersey out of her bag, gently easing it over her head and replacing it for her pajama shirt. _

_"Well, that's a normal sign of pregnancy," she answered quietly as to not be overheard. "At least we know that your second trimester is going alright. We don't have Banner, so we're flying blind here." _

_"Still," Natasha stated grouchily. "I hate looking like a whale. How am I supposed to jump without making seismic waves? No, let me," she insisted as Hill headed for her sneakers. "I'll be damned if I can't put my own sneakers on. I did it at practice. I can do it now." True to her word (and after much cursing) Natasha's black sneakers were on, and she reached for the door. "Come on. I think our asses are already roasted."_

_"Glad you could make it, Nat," Ginny teased as they finally met up with the rest of the team in the lobby. She handed Natasha a piece of paper and a pencil. "Here's your brackets for the rest of the playoffs. Winner gets to try that new serum Kellie and Adrianne have been working on. It's supposed to incur photographic memory." Natasha clutched her pencil so tightly she thought it might break. _

_"And if it doesn't work?"_

_"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Robinson," Adrianne teased. "I'm hurt that you think that lowly of me." Natasha sent her a smirk in return. _

_"Before all success comes failure," she sternly reminded her. "I'd hate to think what else you tested your work on before saying it was good to try in my kids."_

_"Whoa whoa whoa, hang on, obviously _my _kids are better. They're gonna get the serum," Kellie joked. "Plus, I'm scheduled to pop before she is, so don't I get it if I win?" _

_"You got one kid, Kel," Natasha raised an eyebrow at her. "Tell me again how that beats two?" _

_"Duh. Everything's going to be better because I've only had to provide for one kid," Kellie sniped jokingly. "Therefore, one kid, one inheiritant of my intelligence, therefore he'll get all of it." Natasha could swear she heard Hill rolling her eyes in the background. _

_"So what are you saying, Kellie?" Natasha asked. Everyone could hear the threat in the undertone of her voice. It promised a slow, painful death if Kellie said the wrong thing. "That my kids are only going to be half as smart as me because there are two of them?"_

Callie and Nicky erupted into outraged voices. "Hey!" "Not cool!" "Yeah, I'm smarter than Nicky is!"

It took five seconds for Nicky to comprehend Callie's last comment. "Hey! My GPA is only .1 less than yours, Cals! And at any rate," he muttered, "it looked better than Uncle Lance's,"

"That was cold, mate," Hunter scoffed affrontedly as Bobbi burst into laughter. "I thought you were on my side," Nicky gave him a disappointed look that rivalled Steve's; Hunter actually quailed.

"Uncle Lance, you didn't even _go _to college," he deadpanned. "Dad might be stupid sometimes, but he at least went to Harvard. You're still cool, though," he reassured him, and Hunter brightened considerably as Bobbi and Skye rolled their eyes. "Mom and Dad were never in the military."

"That you know of," Clint muttered under his breath. Natasha smacked him upside the head. "That part of my file's classified." Skye seemed to take that as a challenge and pulled her computer towards her, typing away.

_"I'm not saying that," Kellie backtracked hurriedly. "I'm just saying, my kid is genetically disposed to be better because it's one kid." She actually looked scared, Natasha noted with satisfaction, and mentally patted herself on the back for her intimidation skills. "Plus, I've been taking all the stuff that Jessie and Adrianne have been coming up with," she said proudly. "My kid's going to be the best of the best."_

"_More like an abomination," Hill whispered to Natasha. "That serum's unstable as unstable can get. If it worked, we'd have them on the Rogers project. Or hired." _

"_Look, you can't beat my kids," Natasha said lowly, not even bothering to mask the threat in her voice now. "My kids are going to kick your kids' asses into the next century. And I'll be the one smiling from the other side while it happens." She marched up to Kellie, getting right up into her face. "Don't even think that your kid is going to stack up to my twins." _

"Yeah!" Callie leaned over to high-five Natasha, who was smirking behind her beer. "Cause we kick ass!" She in turn leaned over to high-five Nicky, who met her outstretched hand with a loud _smack. _

"_Ladier, you're either both going to have great kids or horrible kids," Ashley deadpanned, easily stepping between the two. "But now isn't the time to make each other our bitches. We have another team to make our bitch, and right now that's Georgia Tech." _

"_Who's gonna be our bitch?" Ingrid crowed loudly. _

"_Georgia Tech!" the girls shouted. _

"_Who's gonna be our bitch?"_

"_Georgia Tech!"_

"_Who we goin make our bitch?" Adrianne hollered. _

"_GEORGIA TECH!"_

"_CAUSE WE ARE?"_

"_THE GENIE BABES!"_

"_WHO ARE WE?"_

"_A BUNCH OF PREGNANT-"_

"_Aaaand that's a man-whore who goes for anything with two legs," Natasha said loudly, giving the man at the bar a cold look. "It's not even nine, and you're at the bar. I really do think that says something about your life, sir. No one's going to show up until noon," she said in a stage whisper. "Go back to your room and cry about your life. No one's going to judge you." The other man stared at her, trying to see if she'd break first, and she stared right back, silently cocking an eyebrow before turning away, her pencil and paper in hand. _

"_Wow, Notre Dame's playing UCLA," Kellie muttered, her brow furrowed over her paper. "I haven't seen Notre Dame in the playoffs since 1996. Wonder who they've got this year." Pencils scratched against paper as each girl filled in their brackets. _

"_Put in Northwestern," Hill whispered to Natasha as she dithered to put in UPenn or Northwestern. "There's a nasty flu going around UPenn right now, and I wouldn't put it below their volleyball players to _not _have it." _

"_Wow, this bracket looks like shit," Ingrid quietly remarked to Natasha, turning hers upside down. "The way I see it, if everything works out, we'll end up playing Oberlin. And I'm not sure Adrianne's gonna handle that well." _

"_Yeah, well, it's not gonna turn out well either if we play Kenyon," Deidre said as she scribbled names out, filling others in. "They've got some really good servers this year, and I'm pretty sure one of them can bench press 200." _

"_The best option we can have is if we play Berkeley," Ashley said decisively as she held out her hand for the papers; each of the girls folded up their papers and handed them to her. "That or Stanford, if we have to play NYU I'm going to stab a bitch."_

* * *

"_We signed up for a day's worth of _scouting_?" Ingrid asked disbelievingly as the girls walked into the gym. "We're going to scout the teams before we actually play?" She shook her head. "I can't believe this. I could've stayed in bed for another three hours. Or more."_

"_You're telling me," Natasha muttered. "I could've sat up late the night before watching game tapes, but noooooooo, I've got to be up at the asscrack to dawn to watch volleyball. Don't get me wrong, I love the sport, but not over my sleep," _

"_Alright, girls, first match I think is U of Miami against Providence," Ashley called to the squad, who was busy looking over the schedule. "I think one of them's got a pregnant digger. Look for strategies they've got and make them into your own." _

_The games passed by in a blur of whistles and flying balls, shrieks and cheers. As each game passed, brackets were crossed out and curses muttered; Deirdre had broken her bracket at the outcome of the first game, nearly breaking her pencil in frustration. Natasha's bracket, surprisingly, hadn't been broken yet, she was in the Great 8 and still going strong. _

"_Let's go change after this game," Jessie suggested as another game started up; it was UC Irving against Washington and Lee. "It's gonna take a while to get into gear." As the game ended, a victory being awarded to Washington and Lee, Adrianne sighed as she crumpled up her bracket. _

"_I'm out. Who's still in?"_

"_Killin' it," Kellie called, waving her bracket at Adrianne. "Hopefully SLC beats Tulane. Then if they beat Ithaca, I'm on my way to winning." Natasha didn't mention how both she and Ingrid were still in the running, but she secretly hoped Ingrid would deny the serum just as she planned to do. _

"_Are you going to let Kellie have the serum if you win?" Ingrid asked Natasha later as they laced up their sneakers in the locker room. "I was under the impression that you didn't want it." Natasha laughed. _

"_Well, Thump, if you don't win it first," she joked. "But yeah, if I win, Kellie can have it. I'm all for having awesome kids naturally, not because of some serum cooked up in a fancier version of a meth lab." _

"_You're gonna have awesome kids, Nat," Ingrid said quietly, and Natasha was struck dumb for a minute at how _honest _Ingrid's statement was. It really was the mark of a best friend, and Natasha found herself hoping that Ingrid would come out alright. "They're gonna be great, I'm sure of it." _

"_That kid's lucky to have you, Thump," she heard herself say in return. "You're going to be five times the mother I'll ever be." _

"Are you _sure _you won't tell us?" Callie begged, nearly on her knees at this point. "Please, Mom, tell us what happened to Ingrid!" There was a pout on her face that Clint hadn't seen on her face since she was seven and asking for a puppy. "It's killing me!"

"_Wow, there's a really big crowd watching us play today," Ashley remarked as they stepped out onto the court to boisterous cheers. "I wonder who they're for?" Natasha took a cursory glance around the stadium, wondering just who would show up to a collegiate volleyball competition-with a pregnant team no less!-and frowned when she saw a very familiar pair of sunglasses. _

_That couldn't be right. _

"_That's not..." she said quietly to Hill, pointing in the direction of the sunglasses' wearer. "I'm hallucinating things, aren't I?" The wearer slowly lifted her sunglasses up, revealing a very mischievous Melinda May. She winked once at Natasha before putting her sunglasses back on, turning away from the both of them. "Hill. What the hell is May doing here?"_

"_I'm just as clueless as you," Hill shrugged, scanning the crowd for other familiar faces. Her eyes widened. "Oh, holy _shit_, there's Pepper." The aforementioned CEO was holding up a large sign that said 'GO GENIE BABES!'. Next to her was a very disgruntled Tony, holding a beer and checking his phone. "And there's Rogers in the corner. He's sitting next to Banner." _

"_Is that...no, it can't be...how the hell did _Coulson _show up to the game?" Natasha gasped, pointing some rows up. True to her word, Coulson was indeed sitting up in the higher rows, and next to him was...was that _Fury? _"Oh look, Maria, your future husband's here," she joked, and Hill slugged her in the arm. "Joke,"_

"_Why the hell is Nick here?" Hill hissed to Natasha, her eyes wide. "He can't see me undercover like this!" She grabbed onto Natasha's shoulders in panic, all but diving behind her friend. "Hide me!"_

"_They wouldn't all be here for _me, _though..."Natasha muttered, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. A figure in purple caught her attention. "And no way Barton would risk his cover to come out here." At that, Hill peered out from behind Natasha to squint into the crowd, frowning when she saw Clint. _

"_Yeah, what _is _Barton doing here?"_

"I remember that day!" Skye exclaimed. "Coulson and May said that they were going to go investigate a lead and left me with FitzSimmons at the base!" Her expression turned annoyed. "They never said they were going to go watch a _volleyball _game!"

"_And now, your Georgia Tech InstaVines!" Half of the crowd let out a loud cheer at the announcer's proclamation, and the InstaVines sauntered out, immediately glaring at the Genie Babes. "Moran, Harrington, Finnegan, Lennon, Smith, Johnson, Michaelson, Casey, and Mensington!" _

_Ingrid turned to Natasha. "Wait, isn't that the name of..." _

_But she barely finished her sentence as Bobbi Morse, of all people, stepped out with a disarming smile, waving at the crowd. The SHIELD agents in the crowd went nuts, and everything suddenly clicked in for Natasha at that moment. _

_They'd shown up to watch her play Morse. _

_And apparently, Bobbi had been briefed on the fact that she was playing Natasha, for blue eyes briefly met green ones before the ball was in the air, nearly smacking Natasha in the face from a well-delivered spike. She managed to set it into the air just in time, shaking her head to get herself out of it. _

"Wait, so Coulson didn't tell you he knew Bobbi was playing?" Skye asked incredulously. "And you had no idea that she was on the team?"

"It got better," Natasha said grimly. "Remember that spiker that was apparently the threat of the team? Yeah," she said, jerking her head towards Bobbi, who preened slightly. "That was all her."

"_That's the back spiker, Barbara Mensington," Ashley said to Natasha during a team huddle. "You've really got to watch out for her. I saw how you nearly got taken out with that spike to the face, Robinson." _

"_She's mine," Natasha growled, causing everyone to look at her. "This kid's daddy? Her boyfriend," she explained, gesturing to her stomach. "I'm going to make payback sweet and painful." _

_They split back out onto the court with renewed vigor, Natasha with a look of determination on her face. The entire team soon learned to stay out of Natasha's path whenever the ball came her way; it would simply get spiked with a ferocious velocity back towards Bobbi, who would either have to dive away from the ball, causing a point for the Genie Babes, or make a last-ditch attempt to save it. _

"I thought you said you kicked her ass," Callie said confusedly to Bobbi. "It sounds like Mom's kicking _your _ass."

"Oh, no, she kicked my ass during that game," Bobbi said. "I kicked hers every game after that." Callie didn't look completely convinced, but nodded for the sake of continuing the story.

_If it'd been possible, that game passed even more quickly than any of the other games had, and the girls were down to a final point to win the game. Bobbi, who was sweating bullets, served the ball determinedly to Adrianne, who gently bumped it to Ashley before digging it to Natasha, setting up their signature move. _

_Natasha had begun a jog towards Ingrid and Ginny, who had formed a base below her on their knees. She jumped onto their hands and they launched her right into the path of the ball. Natasha smacked down onto the ball with all of her might, sending it sailing directly towards Bobbi, who had just happened to be facing away from the ball. It hit her smack in the back of the head with a loud THUD, sending Bobbi straight to the ground, amid the loud groans of various SHIELD personnel. The volleyball quietly thudded to to ground, and the referee stepped in to call the score. _

"_Final game, 21-13, Genie Babes," he announced. The girls let out a cheer and went in for the hug, celebrating Ingrid, Natasha and Ginny especially-after all, they'd been the ones to help make the winning spike. _

"_Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some unfinished business with Mensington," Natasha said to the girls grimly, extricating herself from the group. She could see Pepper and Steve celebrating in the stands, Tony and Bruce collecting money from Coulson and Clint. May looked delighted, however-she must have secretly bet on Natasha. _

_Bobbi was still struggling to get back up when Natasha sent a well-placed slap to her cheek, sending her right back down to the ground once more. "That was for Clint, you whore," she said loudly, then bent down. "Morse, what the hell are you doing here?"_

"_Same as you," Bobbi muttered, rubbing her cheek. "Jesus, Nat, was that really necessary?" _

"_Completely." Without warning, she slapped Bobbi again, making the blonde agent wince. "He cheated on me for you. A nothing. A nobody. Don't think I'm going to take that sitting down." By now, Bobbi's amusement at the entire situation had been channeled into her anger, and she shoved Natasha hard as she got back up. _

"_Please, Robinson, did you really think Coulson would stick around with a girl he knocked up?" she snarled, neither of them missing the humor in that statement. "And let's get the record straight: Me," Bobbi gestured to herself. "You." A gesture was made toward Natasha. "I can see why he dumped you."_

_"You really know how to make a girl feel good, Mensington," Natasha simpered back. "But, I'm guessing because you're with Clint, you were the only one he could find that would put out after I got pregnant," Shocked gasps erupted from both teams, and Bobbi frowned. To anyone else, it looked like she was preparing for a fight, but she was really trying to figure out how to hit Natasha without injuring her. One, Clint would kill her for it, and two, she really didn't want to hurt her best friend._

_"Oh no she didn't," she heard one of the Georgia Tech members say, and that was it before Natasha tackled her, taking care not to impact her swollen belly. The two of them fell to the ground, scratching and clawing at each other in a poor imitation of their actual sparring sessions. _

_"So how long you been undercover, Morse?" Natasha asked casually as she tried to yank Bobbi's hair. The other woman responded with an attempted punch to the head, which Natasha easily dodged. _

_"Since you've gone in," Bobbi replied easily, managing to kick Natasha in the leg. Natasha let out a feigned shriek of pain, and headbutted Bobbi in the stomach. While she knew it was fake, it still hurt like hell. "Fury needed someone in the southern artery. Sent me back to my alma mater, because why not?" _

_"Find anything?" Natasha asked as Bobbi rolled them both over, still attempting to land a punch. She sucked in a breath as Bobbi jabbed a fist into her side, glaring at her. "Goddammit, Morse, you know I'm ticklish,"_

"Pause." Callie said, holding up a finger. She looked slowly at Natasha, who just realized what she'd done. "Mom, did you just say you were _ticklish_?" Natasha blinked once, slowly, trying to dig her way out of this hole.

"Uh, see, it was a thing that happened during my pregnancy, for some reason," Natasha babbled as Callie's curiosity grew. "I was really ticklish in some places, but I'm sure as hell not now-_goddammit, Cals, why?" _she shrieked as Callie tackled her, attempting to tickle every place she could get to. Nicky and Clint joined in, leading to the four of them rolling on the floor while Skye, Bobbi and Hunter looked on in amusement.

"Alright, alright, fine!" Natasha screamed out, holding her sides as she gasped for breath. "I'm ticklish! I'm ticklish!" Callie and Nicky got off of her, looking on while Clint continued to tickle his wife, knowing a chance like this would never happen again.

"Dad, could you let Mom up? I want to hear the end of this story," Nicky said eventually. "I wanna know what happened to Ingrid. And who won the fight between Mom and Aunt Bobbi." Natasha leveled a mocking glare at him.

"You're not serious, are you?" she asked, attempting to catch her breath. "Of course I won that fight. I wouldn't be telling this part of the story otherwise."

"_Science," Bobbi breathed as her fist met Natasha's open hand at an impasse, the two of them struggling for the upper hand. "They're making serums and sending them off to different universities. They want to test them on the pregnant populations there. Be careful," she warned as Natasha rolled out from Bobbi, aiming a kick at her friend's chest. "They might try to test you and your friend Ingrid there. I heard that one of the girls on your squad gave birth?"_

"_Deirdre Roberts," Natasha huffed out as the two of them really got into it, their limbs flailing as if they were truly sparring. "Was in labor for all of ten minutes, and that was three days ago. She was playing today." She ducked as Bobbi swung a punch over her head, jabbing at her stomach. "Baby had bright golden brown eyes. No kid should have eyes that color." _

"_Shit," Bobbi muttered as Natasha caught _her _in the side, jerking to the right. "I worked on that one. Babies that have bright brown eyes have a 35% chance of surviving the first month. If they make it, they're going to be the next super-soldier. It's their most unstable serum yet," she explained as they fell into an easy sparring routine, unaware that the teams were watching them in awe. "They've usually just managed to alter one genetic component, but this is zero to one hundred real quick. You've got to get back to me on that, Nat," she said worriedly. "Not just for science, but if that baby gets unstable, you've gotta put it down." _

"_I can't just kill a baby, Morse," Natasha whispered, avoiding a classic one-two combo. "I'm cold, but I'm not _that _cold. Plus, how would I do that, anyways?"_

"_I don't know," Bobbi sighed, her fingers twitching. "Maybe if you get lucky, you won't have to. Maybe the serum will burn out on its own. The babies that don't survive have a burnout period. It's like watching the Extremis, but a lot faster, and the aftermath is just a fadeout. It would drive any mother insane, especially if she was promised a better baby." She was clearly at odds on what to do next, so Natasha took the lead, lunging for her once more and bringing her down with the force of her stomach. _

"_And if I have to put it down?" she asked, alternating slamming the ground with her fists. Bobbi had to whip her head back and forth to avoid getting hit. "Is there any special way that I'd have to put it down?"_

"_I mean, you could get it so agitated that it would cause the burnout," Bobbi said thoughtfully, pushing Natasha off of her forcefully. "It's like Extremis, like I said. Only there's a chance of surviving with better symptoms than would normally apply." She looked at Natasha as they stood up, winding her fist up. "Now, relax," she said quietly. "This is going to hurt."_

_And with that, she punched Natasha square in the jaw, sending her reeling back into Jessie's arms. "And stay out of his life, you whore!" Bobbi yelled as a parting remark, sauntering off to Clint, making a big show of kissing up to him. _

"So you did kick Mom's ass," Callie said, looking at Bobbi in awe. "Cool!" Natasha scowled at Bobbi, who just laughed and shrugged.

"She's your kid, not mine."

"_Are you okay?" Jessie asked Natasha, who had adopted a mortally wounded look on her face. "We can get back at her if you want. She's no match for Adrianne and I." As much as the thought of Adrianne and Jessie trying to fight Bobbi amused her, Natasha shook her head-she had other pressing issues to deal with. _

"_She's not worth the effort," she said to Jessie, who slowly steadied her on her feet. "After all, there's really no point in trying to take down the lowest of the low." Hill, who had come over to see if Natasha had sustained any permanent injuries (minor bumps and bruises, but she'd be okay otherwise.), frowned when she saw Bobbi and Clint together. "Who have we got left to trump?" _

"_Well, we beat the shit out of them, but they got drawn for the wild card," Ashley announced as she came over, sporting a fresh bruise on her cheek. "I may or may not have mouthed off to Mensington," she admitted ruefully. "Got a nice shiner in the cheek for that one." Natasha was both proud and horrified that Ashley had stuck up for her-it made hating her for being part of HYDRA all the much harder. On the other hand, at least Bobbi had gotten her annoyances against HYDRA worked out. "We may be giving them babies to test, but our volleyball rivalry still stands," _

_And there was the clincher. _Now _she knew Ashley was 100% HYDRA. _

"_Alright, says here that we've got to beat Dartmouth," Ginny announced, coming over with her schedule in hand. "And I know for a fact that they're a piece of shit, so this one should be no problem. How they made it this far in the playoffs, I have no idea."_

* * *

_The baby died that night. _

_Natasha liked to think that Bobbi jinxed it. Maybe she had, and had ended up doing a service for humanity. Or maybe the whole thing had been due to pure chance and faulty science. Or maybe the baby had died on its own; no one would ever know. _

_They heard Deirdre's scream later that night, when they'd all been tucked safely away into their hotel rooms, getting ready to turn in for the night. At first, they'd ignored it-maybe Deidre was getting lucky or something, and she wasn't known to have the best judgement-and after all, a scream was nothing new. _

_They'd changed their minds when Deirdre's scream changed to an anguished sob some time later, Natasha and Hill the first ones to bolt out the door. They were quickly flanked by Ashley, Kellie, and Ginny, Adrianne and Jessie not that far behind. _

_Ingrid was quick to open the door, her face an ashen white. Hill and Natasha guided her to sit in an oversized armchair while the rest of the girls flocked around Deirdre, who was vomiting into a trash can next to the crib. _

"_Are you alright?" Hill asked Ingrid quietly as the rest of the girls squealed about how awful the entire situation was; Natasha couldn't help but think that at least _some _of their sympathy was fake-Kellie and Adrianne had definitely known what would happen with the serum from Georgia Tech. Ingrid could only nod; her lips pressed together in a straight line. "Here, let's get you out of here," Hill said gently, standing Ingrid up and guiding her out of the room. She caught Natasha's eye on the way out, and Natasha nodded. _

"_What happened?" Jessie asked, the sympathy in her voice almost drowning out the curiosity. Almost. "He seemed fine when we checked on him at the hospital!" Deirdre was sobbing on the floor, the rest of the girls gathered around her in a circle. After closing the door, Natasha went over to the tiny circle, sitting down with them. _

"_I-I don't know," she sobbed hysterically, mascara running down her face. "I was just holding him one minute, and the next, he started feeling really, really hot, and I went into the bathroom to wet a cloth to bring down his temperature because I thought he had a fever or something, and the next thing I knew, there was this bright light, and when I went back out to check on him, he was just _there_," A fresh wave of sobs overtook her, wracking her tall frame. "He's just a shell," she exclaimed, waving a hand towards the crib. "Empty. It's like everything was just sucked out of him." _

"_Huh," Jessie said, examining the remains. "You're right, D. It's like he just burned through." She exchanged a look with Adrianne. "They did say there was a chance of this happening." Deirdre looked up angrily, maternal fury on her face. _

"_They said there was a 35% chance of it happening!" she shrieked, so angry that her tears were nearly flying off of her face. "And we took all sorts of preventative measures to stop this from happening, Jessie! There's only one way to put it. They. Screwed. Up. And they've got to pay for what they did." The anger on Deirdre's face slowly ebbed, only to be replaced with a cold, calm catatonia that rattled Natasha. No one should've had that look on their face. Not unless they'd finally lost their hold on reality. "Hey, Nat, you still got that grudge against Mensington?"_

_Natasha didn't like where this was going. "'Course I do. Hard to forget the bitch who stole your boyfriend." Pushing the wave of nervousness down, she continued, "Why? What do you wanna do to her?"_

"_She's dead to me."_

"Why don't you look scared?" Callie asked Bobbi, who was munching away on a Pop-Tart. "Your life just got threatened. And you're not even shaking." She looked dubious of herself. "Hell, I'd be shaking like a leaf!"

"Callie," Bobbi said gently, putting the Pop-Tart down. "I've seen too many horrors in life to fear for my own anymore." She readjusted herself so that she was sitting on the counter, looking down at her young charge. "That's what being a SHIELD agent is all about-accepting the fact that sometimes, you'll have to put down your own life to save dozens more."

"It doesn't mean you have to _like _it, though," Callie said weakly, suddenly faced with the fact that she really _could_ lose Bobbi at any time. The thought had always occupied the back of her mind before, but she'd always dismissed it, completely convinced that Bobbi was too good to die early. Even during Bobbi's worse days, when she'd been shot and in recovery, Callie had always had full faith that her aunt would pull through, that she wasn't willing to give up so easily.

This changed everything.

"Promise me you won't die unless you have to," she said feverently, grabbing onto the Pop-Tart Bobbi had put onto the table. "Swear right here, right now, on this Pop-Tart."

Bobbi laughed, her blue eyes dancing between seriousness and disbelief. They even held some sadness towards Callie, because she couldn't promise to _not _die. But she'd had an idea for some time now of what would happen to Callie should she meet an unfortunate demise. "You're serious. On this Pop-Tart."

"On this Pop-Tart," Callie repeated, staring at her aunt in a childish, solemn way. Only there was nothing childish about the promise she was making Bobbi make-Callie was absolutely sure that if Bobbi died, it would only be a matter of time before she herself followed. "Swear it, Auntie Bobbi," she said, the old monomer slipping out in the emotion of the moment. "And mean it."

Natasha said nothing as she watched the exchange, having done it with a much younger, much more naive Callie. She'd been four when Natasha had limped back into the Tower with a gunshot wound to the thigh, her daughter immediately breaking down into tears and asking if she was going to die. Natasha had sworn on a mug of Clint's coffee then, and had held the promise as seriously as any oath she'd ever made.

Bobbi regarded her niece carefully, gingerly taking the Pop-Tart from her hand. "I can't promise that, Chem," she said softly. "You know I can't,"

"Mom did," Callie protested, and Clint, having taken Natasha's hand earlier, tightened his grip on it. "And look how well she's doing. _Please, _Aunt Bobbi," she whispered, her gaze never wavering. "_Please _don't die unless you have to," This was no the longer five-year-old Callie Barton she could hide secrets from, Bobbi realized. This was eighteen-year-old Catalina Barton, who'd already seen too much of the world to ever go back to what she once was. "I don't think I'd live if you died."

"I'm not going down without a fight," she vowed, looking Callie squarely in the eyes. "I can promise you that much. I've got too much to live for to go down without a fight. And I can promise you I won't go down stupidly," she added. "I'm not about to take bullets for idiots like Hunter."

And just like that, the mood was broken as Hunter glared at Bobbi, scoffing. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Take your own bullets, Lance," she retorted, grabbing Callie into a hug. "I already took one for you." Hunter's grumbles were tuned out by the younger Barton sibling hugging her aunt tightly, unshed tears springing to her eyes.

"You'd better not die, Morse," Natasha's demand was so quiet Bobbi almost missed it. "'Cause she'll follow you to the grave if you do,"

* * *

_The knocks came around midnight. _

_Natasha had always been somewhat of a light sleeper (one of drawbacks of being a SHIELD agent), but had become even more so now, thanks to the twins. Unfortunately, being a SHIELD agent also meant she was undercover in a HYDRA snafu, pregnant, and assigned a partner that was outrageously grumpy when disturbed in the middle of the night. "Goddammit, Nat," Hill muttered, feeling her way out of bed. "I swear to God, if it's Madison, I'm kicking her ass to next week, my cover be damned." She swung open the door, completely ready to chew out whoever it was standing there, and dropped everything she was prepared to say when she saw who it was. "Ingrid?"_

"_Ingrid?" Natasha mumbled, just as surprised. Yawning, she pushed her covers side, scooting herself up the headboard so that she could see her doorway better. True to Hill's word, Ingrid was indeed standing there in their hotel hall, her large belly only emphasizing her ghostly condition. "Thump, what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night." _

"_I didn't know who else to turn to," Ingrid whispered. She looked an absolute wreck, her honeyed hair frayed on every side of her face. She was dressed only in sweatpants and a Harvard sweatshirt, and Natasha thanked whatever deity was on watch that night that Ingrid hadn't gotten assaulted on her way up. "I'm really sorry to come barging in like this, Maria, I really am, it's just-I didn't know who else would-if I could actually-" Her gaze darted back and forth in the hallway, as if in fear that someone would catch up to her. _

_Apparently Hill saw the same threat, for she stuck her head out into the hallway, looking left and right before opening her door wider and allowing Ingrid in. "Here, come on in." The younger girl scurried into the room, looking wholly out of place as Hill shut the door and got back into bed. "Now, what's up?"_

"_Thump, you're shivering," Natasha silently berated Hill for not noticing Ingrid's shivers earlier, and got out of bed as quickly as she could to drape one of the hotel's comforters on her friend, bringing her to sit on the bed with her. "I'm going to boil you some water in the kitchenette to warm you up, alright? And then you can tell me what's going on." _

"_You're too nice," Ingrid whispered as Natasha bustled around the room, setting some water to boil. "You really don't have to do this, Nat." One hand was placed protectively over her stomach as she said it, as if worried that Natasha was somehow going to poison her. _

"_Oh, trust me, she's usually not this nice," Hill quipped, earning a middle finger from Natasha. "Personally, I think it's the pregnancy hormones. Either that, or she must _really _love you if she's willing to get out of bed and make you some hot water." _

"_Don't listen to her," Natasha gently admonished, pushing a steaming thermos into Ingrid's hands. "Drink," she commanded in a maternal tone, and Ingrid did, sipping gratefully at the hot liquid. "I can't believe Hill didn't notice you were shivering," she muttered, climbing back into bed. "Ria, can you grab the inflatable we brought with us? I don't want Thump out in the hallways tonight." Whether Hill was surprised at Natasha's allowance of Ingrid to stay, or the nickname, she wouldn't show it. The next few minutes were spent with Hill loudly inflating their air mattress in the silence of the hotel room, Ingrid warming up slowly, and Natasha staring concernedly at her best friend. _

_Once Hill was finished, she settled back into bed, waiting for Natasha or Ingrid to prompt the conversation. Natasha sat back on her haunches, silently prompting Ingrid to talk. "What's up, Thump?" _

"_It sounds stupid," Ingrid whispered, not even daring to look up. Somewhere, Natasha was cursing whoever had kept Ingrid from her opinions as a child. When she gave Ingrid a disbelieving look (that wasn't really all that fake, there was a lot of shit she'd seen back in the day), Ingrid shook her head. "No, it really does." _

"_Thump, the only stupid thing you could say is that you fell in love with Clint Coulson and that you want to have his babies," Natasha quipped. Hill echoed that with an 'Amen'. "And I already did that. So nothing you say can be totally stupid." _

"_It's just a theory," Ingrid said, shifting her eyes so that she looked anywhere but at Natasha or Hill. "And for all I know, you two could be one of them and I could die right about now but I don't trust any of the other girls on the squad and-"_

"_Ingrid." Hill stopped the girl's messy word salad with one calm word, making her shut up. "Tell us what's going on, right from the very beginning. Whatever you think we might be, I can 100% promise you we're not. Except mean. 'Cause Nat and I are real mean." _

"_When I was a little girl, my dad was a geneticist," Ingrid whispered. "I came from just outside Indianapolis, so my dad would go every day into the city for work," Natasha and Hill exchanged glances. Some ten years ago, they had taken out a HYDRA branch somewhere in the Midwest. "He wasn't able to tell us what he did, but he did tell us the name of the company," Even now, the name still seemed to strike Ingrid in the heart with fear, and she curled up into a ball. _

"_One day," she managed, "one of my dad's friends came home instead of him, and he told us that my dad had been killed." Her voice broke down then, and Natasha's heart broke completely, drawing Ingrid into her arms. "I still remember when they wouldn't let us have his body. The friend told us my dad had known too much, and that's why they killed him." Hill was flicking through her phone at this time, most likely looking up victims from the last decade. _

"_What's was the company's name?" Natasha prompted, and Hill nodded from the other side of the room-that would be important. "Do you happen to remember it, or...?"_

"_I wasn't supposed to know," Ingrid gulped, her own voice lowering. "I heard Mom and Dad one day late at night when I'd wanted a glass of water. On the outside, the company was called Kaymann, Inc. But Dad said that he knew who was behind the company for real," Her lip quivered. "I think it's the same company that we're all in the lab for. The one that designed Deirdre's baby serum." _

"_Yeah?" It took all Natasha had to act like she didn't know the answer. But she wanted Ingrid to reveal things on her own time, lest she jump the gun and assume Natasha herself was HYDRA. "And what would that be?"_

"_HYDRA." Ingrid whispered. "I think they're from HYDRA." At Natasha and Hill's silence, she continued. "I know it hid inside of this group called SHIELD until the Black Widow released all of the files on the Internet, and I know what they do to people they want for testing," Fear consumed her face. "Jessie, Adrianne and Ashley haven't asked me for testing yet, but I think they're going to. I don't want anything to happen to my son. Have they asked you yet, Nat?" she asked. "What have they asked you?"_

"_Adrianne approached me the other day about trying a metabolic serum," Natasha muttered. She glanced at Hill, who nodded-all of her research had matched what Ingrid had said. In return, Hill raised an eyebrow at her, as if asking if Natasha was really ready to give up her cover. She sighed. "Ingrid, what I'm about to tell you can't leave this room," she said lowly. "If you ever tell anyone what I'm about to say, I _will _have to kill you. And I'm not kidding." _

"_Oh my god, you're HYDRA," Ingrid exclaimed, clutching at her stomach. "You're HYDRA and I've screwed up so badly and now Jessie or Ashley is gonna slowly plan my murder and you're going to kill me, hell you've probably already started with that water, there's probably cyanide or something and-"_

"_Ingrid. Calm. Down." Hill tossed Natasha their badges, and Natasha flipped them open, showing their IDs. "Natasha Romanoff, Agent of SHIELD. Maria Hill. Deputy Director of SHIELD." Ingrid's eyes grew wide, and she opened her mouth to speak. "And before you ask, yes, these are Hawkeye's kids. Clint is just my ex for cover." She left out the part about Bobbi-it wasn't central at the moment. "I'm here to figure out HYDRA and take it down from the inside." _

"_Deirdre wants to kill Barbara Mensington," Ingrid whispered, and Natasha's blood went cold. She glanced at Hill, who looked just as scared. "She told me so. She got her hands on one of the weapons Jessie made-" _Curse that girl for being a physics and pre-med major, _Natasha muttered in her head. "-and she said she's going to shoot her tomorrow." _

"_We have to warn her," Natasha said abruptly, and Hill nodded, getting out of bed and beginning to check the room. It was a few minutes before she nodded, giving Natasha a thumbs-up. "Pass my my phone."_

"_How-what-how are you going to warn her? Call Clint or something?" Ingrid was now completely bewildered as Natasha scrolled through her contacts, finally pulling up Bobbi's number. "How do you just tell someone that they might possibly be murdered tomorrow?"_

"_See, here's the thing about Mensington," Natasha said as she dialed the number. "Also undercover. My other best friend. Bobbi Morse. That surprise was way too real." She tapped impatiently against her knee as the phone dialed, Bobbi's tired voice picking up on the other end. _

"_Hello?"_

"_Morse, get yourself alone right the fuck now." The urgency in Natasha's tone woke Bobbi right up, for there were the sounds of groaning, getting out of bed, and sprinting towards the bathroom. When the door slammed, there was a small scuffle as Bobbi swept the bathroom for bugs, eventually turning the shower on. _

"_What happened?" This was why they were best friends, Natasha thought. They were able to tell what was up with each within a minute of hearing the other's voice. Of course, there also wasn't anyone else in SHIELD who was willing to match banters with her. "Are you compromised?"_

"_Yes and no," Natasha answered. "It's a long story that we don't have time for," she said as Bobbi was clearly about to question why. "One of my squad has it out for your ass. It's best if you come prepared to blow your cover tomorrow." _

"_Any particular reason why?"_

"_The Roberts baby died," Bobbi sucked in a deep breath. "Died just like you said it would. Temperature went up several degrees, baby had a burnout, and was left with an empty shell." Natasha didn't waste time with emotion-there was plenty of time for that later. "Absolutely destroyed Deirdre."_

"_There was a large flash of light," Ingrid supplied quietly, going pale at the remembrance. "I heard the baby scream once. It wouldn't stop crying in its last minutes, and it was all red. Even the eyes were glowing." _

"_Who's that?" Bobbi asked sharply. "Did you blow your cover, Nat?"_

"_She's a teammate," Natasha answered curtly, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Ingrid Brunner." _

"_I thought you were better than this, Nat, you know we just can't go around blowing our covers whenever we feel like it," Bobbi snapped. Natasha rolled her eyes. Bobbi may have been the younger one, but she still had the ability to go all mother hen on Natasha when the moment called for it. "Where does that leave us? What if she blows the whole operation up? Then where will we be?"_

"_Bobbi, her dad was killed by HYDRA," That once sentence shut Bobbi up. "Did anyone ever tell you about Camby ten years ago?" _

"_You were there?" Ingrid asked. Natasha shut her eyes for a moment, willing away the images of smoke, bombs, and people running every which way. The shots that had rung out. The tortured masses they'd found in the depths of the building, plugged into IVs. The number of people that had turned on them once they'd pulled them free, forcing them to pull the trigger. _

_Natasha and May had been part of that group. It was something they vowed to never talk about. _

"God, I can't imagine," Callie ambled over to her mother, grabbing her into a hug. "Putting down innocent people..." She shivered. "I never want to be a SHIELD agent."

"Good," Clint, Natasha, Skye and Bobbi all answered in unison.

"_I don't like to talk about it," Natasha said to Ingrid. "It wasn't a great day for my ledger." _

"_Coulson told me," Bobbi's voice was a lot softer now. "He said May was a wreck for days after. So are you saying that there's a chance HYDRA might show its ugly face tomorrow?" _

"_There might be," Natasha affirmed. "If you see a weapon out, be prepped to fight your way out of there. I'm not sure if the rest of the Avengers and the Bus Team's going to be there like today. Worst comes to worst, it'll be you and Hill fighting your way out, and I'll handle the firepower in the back." _

"_Don't die out there, alright?" Bobbi asked Natasha, reaching over to flush the toilet. "I wanna meet the little squirts. Give me a chance to get unconditionally attached to them." _

"_If all goes well tomorrow, we won't have to worry about dying tomorrow," Natasha sighed, but even _she _knew that such a possibility was slim. "Don't die out there, Morse. We've got new drinks to try when we're done with this."  
_

"_If you don't die, I won't die," Bobbi chuckled. "Tomorrow, then, Romanoff."_

"_Tomorrow, Morse."_

* * *

"_ALRIGHT, GENIE BABES, UP AND AT 'EM!" _

_Ashley's proclamation was the exact same as it had been the day before, but this time, Natasha was significantly less prepared for it, having stayed up until about two the night before hashing out battle and escape plans with Hill and Ingrid. _

"_No matter what happens, you get out of there," Natasha had warned Ingrid dangerously, pointing a pen at her. "I don't care if you're about to give birth in the middle of the hallway. Get the fuck out of there and to a safe place where I can catch up to you." _

"_You listen to me, and me alone," Hill added. "I'm responsible for your personal safety." She gave Natasha a sidelong look. "Romanoff will have my ass if I let anything happen to you." Natasha gave her a look that said 'Damn right'. "And I don't feel like dying soon."_

"_Oh my god, Ashley, five more minutes," Natasha groaned, and was met by affirmative answers from the rest of the squad. They must have been pretty reluctant if they could be heard through the walls. The only one they didn't hear from was Deirdre, and that worried Natasha and Hill enough to suit up, tucking in various weapons onto their persons. _

"_Uh, no, _NOT _five minutes, now!" Ashley screeched in response, and Natasha had to wonder just _what _Ashley had put into her (decaf) coffee that morning. Probably illicit HYDRA drugs or something. She paused in the middle of strapping a Glock to her thigh, frowning when she realized she was going to have to wear yoga pants that day. _

"_Guys? You can't exactly strap a gun to your leg in yoga pants." _

"_So shove it in your bra," Ingrid snorted, sounding remarkably nonchalant for someone who'd had everything about their best friend upended in one night. "Wouldn't it be easier to reach that way, anyways?" _

_Natasha levelled a glare at her best friend before shoving it in. _

"_See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" Ashley asked as the rest of them converged, most of them puffy-eyed. "You guys'll wake right up in no time! Plus, I got something special in the decaf," she exclaimed, holding up a coffee. "It's supposed to put you on edge." One by one, they were butdistributed to the girls, Ashley watching intently as they gulped it down. Deirdre threw down her first cup with a vengeance, Ingrid absently handing her cup over; she was already running on her own adrenaline. _

_"Today is gonna be sweet," Deirdre proclaimed with a wicked grin. "I'm getting back at those sorry-ass butches from Georgia Tech who killed my baby." Anyone with two eyes could clearly see that she was mentally unhinged, but it didn't seem to register to Ashley. In fact, she downright encouraged it as she handed Deirdre her third spiked coffee, the other girl drinking it down with ease. _

_"Who we playing today?" Adrianne asked, as if all was right with the world and a murder was _not _about to go on right under their noses. "Anybody got a perfect bracket?" Natasha handed over hers; it was only by sheer luck that hers hadn't broken yet. Adrianne took it, squinting over the names. "Wonderful," she proclaimed, folding it back up and handing it over to Natasha. "Dartmouth." _

_"Maybe a dart in the mouth would be more subtle," Deirdre muttered, stroking her stomach thoughtfully. Natasha could clearly see the gun she'd strapped against her stomach, and rolled her eyes, shooting a glance at Hill as if to say, _This amateur wants to kill Morse?

_All of the girls were looking at Ingrid expectantly, and it took a few moments before Natasha understood, elbowing her friend in the side. "Thump. Team cheer." Ingrid made a face-considering everything she'd learned in the past twelve hours, she wasn't feeling too fond of the teammates at the moment. But still, a role was a role. _

_"WHO'S GONNA WIN?" she shouted, doing an excellent job of hiding the despair in her voice. _

_"WE ARE!" None of the girls seemed to notice her lack of enthusiasm, which was quite all right with them-anyone that caught on was immediately a liability. _

_"AND WHO ARE WE?!" _

_"THE GENIE BABES!"_

_"I SAID, WHO ARE WE?!"_

_"THE GENIE BABES!"_

_"AND _WHAT THE HELL ARE WE GONNA DO_?"_

_"WIN!"_

_"BREAK!" Ashley shouted, and the girls headed for the bus, cheering. Natasha trailed behind with Hill, feigning difficulty with her back. _

_"I called Clint," she said quietly as Hill poked and prodded at her back, pretending to run an exam. "He said Stark and co. are coming, and Bobbi's managed to get ahold of Coulson. He's bringing May, Trip, and Simmons." _

"And I wasn't invited?" Skye squawked. "What were Fitz and I, chopped liver?" The scowl on her face was evident, and she crossed her arms petulantly.

"Well, I'm pretty sure Coulson didn't want you bringing down the place, and Fitz was too lonely to leave alone," Bobbi smirked, patting Skye on the head as if she were a child. "It's okay. There will be other times."

"He didn't want to take the off chance Ward was out there," Clint said quietly. "It was a swarm of HYDRA agents, Skye. You know Ward would've taken any chance he'd gotten to get you."

* * *

_"Ah, I love the smell of competition in the morning," Ashley sighed as they walked into the arena. Behind her, Deirdre was already fingering her gun, and Natasha kept a close eye on her-just in case things got interesting. _

_"Alright, so we play Dartmouth at eleven," Kellie said, turning around to face her team. "We scouted everyone yesterday, so you guys go ahead and do whatever you want." Deirdre's manic glee was almost palpable. "Just be back here at 10:45." Each of them scattered, and Natasha kept a trail on Deirdre, just in case she completely lost it and decided to massacre everyone in the arena. _

"_What time does Georgia Tech get the wild card?" Natasha asked Hill, all the while keeping one eye on her teammate. "We gotta make sure she's nowhere near Bobbi." Hill was scanning the sheet, her eyes widening as she lowered the paper. _

"_Nat," she said quietly, pointing downwards to the court. "They're playing now." All three of them looked down to see the InstaVines filing onto the court. Natasha scanned the players, noting with some satisfaction that Bobbi had indeed brought her staves, using them to hold her ponytail in place. Hill, in turn, scanned the crowd for Deirdre, but Ingrid found her first, raising a shaking finger towards the top of the stands. _

_Deirdre was pointing a gun right at Ingrid, cold, unflinching death in her eyes. The trigger was pulled before any of them saw it happen. Natasha threw her shoulder into Ingrid's bringing her down to the ground. Both of them hit the concrete step just below the seat, but not before a bright red stain blossomed onto Ingrid's chest, staining her gray Harvard sweatshirt. _

"No!" Callie exclaimed, causing everyone to jump about a foot in the air. "She didn't!" She looked back and forth between Natasha, Bobbi and Clint, hardly daring to believe what she'd just heard. "She can't have died!"

_Time seemed to move in slow motion then. Natasha remembered screaming her best friend's name as she fell to the ground, several shots ringing out as HYDRA revealed themselves, beginning to shoot at anyone. SHIELD quickly leapt into action, most of the time taking HYDRA agents out before they even saw them coming. Up in the stands, Natasha saw Steve taking out Deirdre with one hit from his shield, he and Clint hauling her over her shoulder and out of the building. _

_Bobbi rushed over to them, her face contorted with worry at the fact that Ingrid had gone down. "Bruce, what's her status?" she asked. When Bruce didn't respond, attempting to take deep breaths instead, she forced his eyes open. "Bruce. Status. Now." _

"_There's no pulse," Bruce said calmly, and Natasha's heart stopped. It couldn't be. Ingrid couldn't be dead. Not just like that. Her best friend hadn't been through eight months of pregnancy just to lose her child like that. "We have to get the baby out. We have to." Coulson arrived with a medical kit and gloves, and Bruce set immediately to work, operating on Ingrid's still body with precision and calm. _

"_Get a perimeter around Banner," Tony ordered, his suit having just come in. He rose into the air. "Here, Coulson, I'll give you a ride," he offered. "Shoot from above and they'll never see you coming." Without a word, he picked up Coulson, and off they flew, the occasional sound of Coulson's gun ringing out. _

_Around them, the volleyball team was trying their best to get in, and Natasha could just see the curiosity on Kellie and Ashley's faces. It didn't stop them from attempting to put on a mask of sincerity, though. "Ingrid!" Ashley cried, her hands reaching out for the dead woman. "No, Ingrid, you've got come back-come back, Ingrid, come back-" Her pleas were cut off by Bobbi bringing a baton to her head, sending her to the ground. The rest of the team was dispatched in the same way before Bobbi ran off once more, most likely to injure other HYDRA members. _

"_Hey, who let all of the volleyball players be HYDRA?" Tony asked, flying back to deposit Coulson. He picked up May instead, who was switching her magazine. "Did we willingly walk into a HYDRA assembly or something? And if so, how'd we miss the damn signs?"_

"_We might have," Coulson said, quickly reloading his gun and squeezing off a few shots at people who looked like they were aiming at him. As HYDRA agents dropped to the ground one by one, the number of bullets per minute slowly decreased, and soon, they all stood in a huddle over Bruce, who had sweat pouring over his head as he worked feverishly. _

_At last, only Bobbi was left, and she was chasing Adrianne around the court, screaming something about the serum and biochemistry. They were quickly fighting hand-to-hand, Bobbi's batons whirling as she met Adrianne's improvised strikes she'd found with a net pole. _

"_I'm going to go ahead and guess she took one of the serums," Steve said as he arrived back in with Clint, the latter having taken care of any ambushes outside. "And it looked like it worked on her." Clint sighed and nocked an arrow, squinting until he got a clear shot. His arrow was released towards Adrianne, and struck her leg, causing her to buckle in pain. Bobbi got in one last shot with her baton, rendering the girl unconscious. _

"_Unnecessary force, but approved all the same," May said to Bobbi as the blonde agent walked over, watching Bruce swaddle something in his purple sweatshirt. "Besides, it's not like these people have done anything good in their time in HYDRA." _

"_The baby's not breathing," Natasha said, panicking a little when she saw the baby's purple face. "Why isn't he breathing?" Bruce, looking completely unconcerned, simply pushed on the infant's chest a few times, breathing into his mouth. The baby let out a healthy, strong cry that had everyone struggling not to shed some of their own tears. _

"_You tell anyone I almost cried, I will hang you from the roof," Tony threatened Clint, who simply raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you cute," he said, taking the small bundle from Bruce. "What's your name?"_

"_Ingrid didn't name her," Natasha realized. "She was going to wait until she had the baby to figure out whether it was a boy or a girl." She looked disbelievingly at the bloodied body of her best friend, and suddenly sprinted to the bathroom as the breakfast she'd downed threatened to make an appearance. Inside, she retched out the remains of her entire breakfast, the vomiting giving way to tears. _

Callie and Nicky looked at each other, then ran towards Natasha with the intent of pile driving her in a hug.

"_Nat?" It was Bobbi, Natasha could tell by the combat boots. "Are you alright in there?" Without even waiting for an answer, a baton hit the door, unlocking it, and Bobbi strode right in, bending down to her best friend on the floor. "You know people hurl on these floors, right?"_

"_I thought it was appropriate, considering what just happened to me," Natasha said ruefully. Bobbi's expression softened, and she bent down to be next to her best friend. "It wasn't your fault," she told her best friend sternly. "There was nothing you could change, okay, Nat? You couldn't have changed Ingrid or Jessie or Kellie or any of the people that killed Ingrid."_

"_She didn't deserve any of this," Natasha sobbed, her head in between her knees. "She was just a small town girl who'd made it into the big city and _finally _was going to do something to change the world. She wasn't supposed to get mixed up in HYDRA shit. She was supposed to have this baby, major in chemistry, and develop cleaner oil. Not get killed by a deranged woman who lost her child to a faulty formula." Without a word, Bobbi slid to the ground, hugging Natasha next to her while she continued to cry. _

"_I know, Nat," she whispered while Natasha sobbed, feeling as if her heart had been ripped out. "I'm so fucking sorry it happened." The two of them sat like that for a while, their walls fallen, mourning for the petite eighteen-year-old who would never get to see the rest of her life. _

_May eventually poked her head into the ladies' room; if she was surprised to see two of her best agents on the floor, one of them sobbing and the other one looking like she was going to sob any second now, she didn't say it. "The Avengers have all of the girls rounded up," she said succinctly. "We need to get you debriefed and out of here as soon as possible. You've done enough damage to the twins already by playing volleyball." _

_Bobbi silently hoisted Natasha up, allowing her to continue crying as Natasha locked her arms around her waist, half-dragging, half towing her out of the room. Clint gently caught a hold of her once they exited, Bobbi supporting her other side. _

Callie looked absolutely devastated to hear that her mother had become so frail. Natasha looked like she was about cry once more. "Mom, it wasn't your fault," she said, mainly feeling like Natasha had really never gotten Bobbi's point all those years ago. "Look at me," she said, and Natasha looked into her daughter's eyes. "_It. Wasn't. Your. Fault." _

"_Bed rest," Bruce ordered on her way out. "Natasha, you've caused enough stress to the twins by going undercover and getting on the volleyball team. I'm not sure how much more damage they can take. Doctor's orders," he said sternly as Natasha opened her mouth, most likely to say something about finishing the mission. "And I'm pretty sure your covers are shot to hell. They're going to have to send someone else in." _

_Suddenly, Natasha's stomach seized violently, and a large gush of liquid soaked her shorts. All she could do was stare in catatonic shock as Clint and Bobbi turned to her. They looked at Bruce, who was holding his head in his hands. "Bruce," she said, her voice wobbly. "I don't think we have time to get bed rest." _

"_Get her to the QuinJet," May ordered, the first one to snap into action. When no one moved a muscle, she snapped her fingers in their faces. "Now!" Instantly, Clint had scooped her up in her arms, running like the wind towards the arena's exit. May ran ahead of them, shouting orders to clear the prisoners to a separate craft as she opened the QuinJet's ramp. Bruce also jogged in front of them, if not to get a medical area ready to give birth to another baby. _

"So we were born on the same day as Ingrid's kid?" Nicky asked quietly, his face withdrawn. He could see how much this story was affecting Natasha, and hated it whenever she got emotional like this. Whenever she _was _emotional, it was of such a pained caliber it was almost like a grievous injury to himself. "What happened to her?"

"No one knows," Bobbi said quietly, choosing to interject. "We gave her to one of our agents who was undercover over in Wales. I have no idea what to happened to her." All of them fell quiet at that, wondering just what had happened to Ingrid's kid and where she was now.

"_I'm not ready for this," Natasha babbled as she was wheeled into the room, Bruce flitting around her as he set up the necessary equipment to prepare her for the birth. "I thought I had more time than this, Bruce, I'm not ready to become a mother!"_

"_Well, like it or not, these two kids are coming out," Bruce answered, which was punctuated by Natasha's loud swear as one of the twins kicked her lower stomach. "Seems like they don't want to stay in for much longer." He called Steve over, motioning to Natasha. "I'm going to need you two to help her into the bed." _

"_Let me just get past this contract-AGH!" A fresh wave of pain swept over Natasha, and she gripped the sides of the stretcher, nearly causing a dent with her fingers. She was breathing heavily as she came down from the pain, and Clint and Steve took that as a sign to lift her up, Clint taking her feet, Steve taking her head. _

"_You're going to be alright, Natasha," Steve said soothingly as he lowered her into the bed. "Just breathe, and you're going to be just fine." Natasha wanted to ask him just how the hell he knew that when another contraction hit, and she let out a series of high-pitched screams that had every agent in the vicinity scrambling for cover. _

"_Get back to the hotel," she commanded, still panting as the pain receded. "Get our stuff the hell out of there. I've got records and pictures and recordings, we can't have those falling into the wrong hands." Steve nodded and hurried to the front, most presumably to tell May to get back to the hotel. "Hill will know where to get it."_

_Time once more resumed its blending as Natasha went through contraction after contraction. She didn't remember half of what she'd said, but she did remember some choice threats in Russian and promises to Clint that they'd never go through this process again. At some point, Hill returned, emptying out all of their evidence in their room. She'd gone through the other girls' rooms too, she explained, and had taken everything that was considered evidence. _

"_I grabbed all of Ingrid's stuff, too," she said somberly, and Natasha's heart did a squeeze at the mention of her deceased best friend. "There was this," Hill told her softly, handing over a stack of photos. The front one showed Ingrid and Natasha among a frame of autumnal trees, decked out in Uggs and sweaters. Natasha remembered that day well-neither of them had really seen a changing of the leaves, and had decided to walk around campus, watching them fall to the ground. Someone on campus had seen them together and offered to take the picture, snapping the two in a hug. _

_Natasha flipped through the photos-the contractions had stopped for a bit; it was almost like the twins had taken the time to let her mourn Ingrid-her sadness mounting with each photo she found. Camping out on hammocks. Carving pumpkins. Baking cupcakes. Cleaning up the mess after Ingrid had completely burned her batch, flour and sugar in her hair. Going canoeing down the Charles River. Shopping at Prudential. Making vinegar and baking soda volcanos. Designing their own candy. Ice skating on the Frog Pond. Ingrid's face when they'd woken up to a foot of snow, classes cancelled for the day. Going sledding down the campus hill, taking a tumble into the powder. Hot chocolate overlooking the city. _

_She'd known Ingrid for less than a year, but it felt like Natasha had known the girl for an eternity. _

"_Do it for her," Clint was suddenly at her side, examining the photos. Natasha could feel the pain of another contraction already building in the pit of her abdomen. "She'd want you to have the twins, Nat." Deep inside, Natasha knew it was true. _

"_She said I'd be a great mother once," she whispered, Ingrid's words resonating in her mind. She could almost hear her friend's throaty whisper as she said it, the confidence behind those small words. Tears ran from Natasha's eyes as she remembered the reassurance, a choked sob escaping her. _

"_Then do it, Nat," Clint said softly, taking her hands. "Do it for her." Natasha nodded minutely as Bruce came rushing back in, checking her progress. _

"_You're at ten centimeters, Natasha," he said, snapping his gloves on. "I'm going to get Simmons in here, and she's going to help me with the birth, alright?" Natasha nodded once more, steeling her resolve in preparation for what was surely going to be the most difficult process of her entire life. _

"_I found this," Hill hurried in, holding a small, plastic elephant. Natasha recognized it as the souvenir they'd gotten when she and Ingrid had gotten when they'd visited the Franklin Park Zoo, and she reached out for it, wanting to keep the spirit of her best friend close to her. "It should help with the pushing." _

"_Are you ready, Agent Romanoff?" Simmons asked, peering closely at her. "You've got two children to give birth to-it's about to get painful." Natasha nodded, tightening her grip on the elephant. If she had Ingrid, she could get through anything. "Alright, then, push!"_

_It was a long hour as Natasha pushed, screaming until her vocal cords and then some, refusing to take a break even as she lay on the bed, drenched in sweat. Simmons had assured her some time ago that one of the babies' heads was crowning, and that it would only take a couple of more pushes until they were out. _

"_Yeah, but just how many more pushes is that, Simmons-AUGH!" Natasha let out what must have been her loudest scream yet, which was rewarded by the tinny crying of a baby as Simmons cradled it in her arms, quickly swaddling it and cleaning its face. _

"_Alright, Agent Romanoff, one more," Simmons said encouragingly, and Natasha felt like screaming simply out of frustration. She'd gone through hell just to get one child out of the womb, and now Simmons was saying she'd have to go through the same experience again? "Don't worry, it should be easier this time," Simmons reassured her, reading the look on her face. "Your muscles have gotten used to the intensity of the pushing." _

"_I love you, Eli," Natasha said tiredly to the elephant in her hand, tears leaking from her eyes. "I'll never forget who you belonged to," She burst into tears as the pain built up again, meaning she'd have to push once more. "I don't want to, Simmons, I don't want to," she chanted. "I did it once, I can't do it again." _

"_You can do it, Nat," Clint said quietly and urgently. "You can one hundred percent do it-you're going to meet your kids as soon as this is over, and they're going to be the most beautiful things you've ever seen in your life. She's watching over you, you know," he said, motioning to Eli. "She'd want you to see your kids." _

_Natasha was on the verge of sobbing, but took several gulping breaths before calming down once more. "Let's do this," she said to Simmons shakily. "I want to meet my...which one do I have to give birth to still?"_

"_You've got a boy here," Bruce called from the other side of the station, where he was taking birth records. "6 pounds 8 ounces, a little on the skinny side, but you were jumping around for a majority of your pregnancy, so that's not an issue." _

"You're still as skinny as a damn stick," Natasha muttered, poking Nicky in the side. "You need to eat more, Buster. And I'm not just talking about junk food. _Real _food."

"Mom, you define real food as Aunt May's cooking," Nicky said, making a face. "And Aunt May's cooking is the furthest thing from real as real can ever get. Get Uncle Steve or Uncle Bucky to cook. Then I'm in."

"_There," Clint whispered excitedly. "You've got little Nikolai Renner. Just get Callie out, and we'll have a family, just like that. Think about it, Natasha. Focus on that." His hand enveloped hers as they squeezed Eli the elephant together. _

_Simmons was right about one thing: the process was most definitely much quicker the second time around than it had been on the first. In no time, Simmons held a pink bundle in her hands to match the blue one Bruce had on his, and was taking measurements. "7 pounds 5 ounces, a perfect weight," she called to Natasha. "Callie, you said?"_

"_Catalina," Natasha corrected, her voice overlapping with Clint's. "Catalina Scarlett." _

"_Congratulations, Agent Romanoff," Simmons said, handing Callie and Nicky over to Natasha. "You and Agent Barton have gotten yourselves two perfectly healthy babies." Natasha took them in her arms, maternal longing surging towards both of them. Bruce handed a bottle to Clint, and the archer took Nicky into his arms, sticking a bottle into his mouth. Simmons did likewise to Natasha, and Callie took quickly to the bottle, sucking it dry. _

"_Do you want me to kick everyone out, or are you up to seeing people?" Bruce asked, hovering by the side of the bed. Natasha looked up from feeding Callie, who was gurgling happily. _

"_Send in Coulson, Fury, May and Bobbi, please," Clint answered for her, and Natasha nodded in agreement. Bruce stuck his head out the door, calling for said people, and there was a loud protest (most likely Tony) at those who weren't allowed in. _

"_But Brucie! I need to spoil them before the assassin spouses figure out!" _

"_They're adorable!" Instantly, Coulson went from tough-as-nails agent to cuddly teddy bear in a second, holding his arms out for Callie. Smiling, Natasha put her into his arms, Coulson letting out a small shriek of joy as Callie made a happy noise. _

"_Can I?" May was quieter, but excited all the same as she held Nicky in her arms, gently rocking him back and forth. "Hello, little one," she said as she peered into his inquisitive green eyes. "You're Nicky, huh? I'm your Aunt May," she cooed to him. "You're gonna be all sorts of trouble, I can already tell." _

_Fury's voice was gruff, but not exactly devoid of emotion as he addressed Natasha. "Romanoff, how much evidence did you get?"_

"_Enough to get the government off of SHIELD's tail," Natasha replied confidently. "Go over it all with Hill, sir, she's just as versed in the file as I am. And before you leave," she said, stopping Fury in his tracks, "Clint and I have agreed that we'd like to you to be their grandfather." Silently, Coulson and May placed the twins' bundles in Fury's arms, watching him soften as he regarded the two babies. _

"_They're gonna be a handful," was all he said before he handed the bundles back, turning tail and leaving the room. Coulson and May continued to fawn over the babies, May even going so far as to wave her hand in front of Nicky's face. _

_Bobbi was standing in the background, wistfully looking at the twins. The emotion was unreadable on her face-there was no telling whether she was thinking about her own failed marriage, or the what-ifs she could've had. "Bobbi, come here," Natasha said softly as Clint, Coulson and May became fascinated with Nicky, pretending not to notice the bonding moment between the two friends. _

_"They're beautiful," Bobbi said quietly, gesturing to Callie's small, swaddled form. "_You're _adorable," she said to a tiny Callie, "And you're the best thing to happen to your mother." The adoration was clear in her eyes, and Natasha's heart melted at the sight of Bobbi and Callie together, and she somehow knew already that the two of them would be inseparable. _

_"I want you to be her S.O," Natasha told her softly, and Bobbi turned curious eyes on her, asking if she was sure. "If I do it, I might take it to easy on her because I don't want her to be like me," she said. "She loves you, Bobbi. She'll listen to you. She'll follow you. You're a role model for her, Bobbi, I can tell already."_

_"You're gonna be a badass, Catalina," Bobbi whispered to Callie. "I'm never going to let anything happen to you. I swear on my life as a SHIELD agent. I'm swearing as your S.O." Natasha's heart swelled. These were the days she really loved her best friend. "I'm swearing first and foremost as your aunt."_

"_You'd better swear as her godmother," Natasha mumbled, almost too quietly for Bobbi to hear, but the blonde picked it up anyways. She held Callie close when she pointed to herself, then to Natasha. "Yeah, you heard me, Barbara. _Godmother._"_

"_I-I'm not-Nat," Bobbi let out on a half-chuckle, the tiredness showing in her face for once. "There's no way I'm fit to be her godmother." She looked around the room and out the door. "There are so many other people who are able to be her godmother. Not me." With her free hand, she gestured out the door. "Hill. Simmons. Skye. Hell, May." She turned back to her best friend, honest self-deprecation in her eyes. "Not me. I've seen too much."_

"_I've seen much more than you'll ever know, Morse," May reminded her, walking over and putting a hand on Bobbi's shoulder. "Take the job. The girl needs someone like you in her life. I think we could all benefit from someone like you in our lives." _

"_Thanks, May," Bobbi said quietly. Callie was hugged instinctively tighter to her, and the young girl peered inquisitively up at Bobbi, an arm finding its way out of the wrapping to reach for her. All of them gasped, Bobbi quietly holding out her finger for Callie to grab. Callie grabbed onto it with a fierceness that rivaled Natasha's love for her children, and they all swore Bobbi almost broke down into tears at that moment. _

"I love you too, Aunt Bobbi," Callie exclaimed, latching onto her aunt once more. As Bobbi rested her chin on Callie's head, Natasha swore she could see the slightest glimmer of tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Then, she heard a sniffle, and she _knew _her best friend was five steps away from crying.

"BioChem?" Bobbi asked her neice quietly.

"Biochem. Always."

* * *

"You're going to do _what_?"

Callie's roommate Maggie, was staring at her with a mixture of amusement and horror on her face, having just heard the prospect of what Callie was about to do. Earlier on in the month, she'd been thoroughly vetted by the entirety of SHIELD to determine whether she would be a good roommate for Callie at UC Berkeley (Callie had finally decided to go to a public school, after an impassioned plea from Bobbi not to go to Georgia Tech-after all, they had been what had led to so many deaths,), and knew everything about the craziness that made up Callie's family.

"I think it'll be fun," Callie chirped, twirling her phone in her hand. Boxes littered their room, the result of Hunter and Bobbi helping Callie move in. They'd been all but three minutes in before they'd gotten into a heated argument, which resulted in them working off some steam in some place on campus Callie preferred not to know. "I wanna see what Aunt Bobbi will do."

"She'll _kill _you," Maggie said, aghast. "If your mom doesn't kill you first. Moms tend to get fairly angry when their daughters call them up and tell them they're pregnant."

"I'm pretty sure Dad's going to get on the line and ask why Aunt Bobbi and Uncle Lance didn't leave me any protection first," Callie snorted, plopping down onto her bed. (They'd at least gotten that done without complaint, although Hunter had given Bobbi plenty of dirty looks throughout the entire ordeal). "Come on. They're not so bad. Plus, didn't you start a bromance with Uncle Fitz or something?"

"Okay, but how could you not?" Maggie argued. "He basically designed everything that we use in the labs!" As an engineering major, Maggie had become somewhat of a fangirl of Fitz, which made Callie even more sure that her roommate would get along swimmingly with Nicky.

"You've got to meet my brother, then," she said, finally unlocking her phone and hitting her speed dial. "I'll drag you out sometime to meet him. Engineering major. I'm pretty sure he worked with Uncle Fitz on some of his designs." She hit _dial _and shushed Maggie, who was in the middle of having another fangirl fit. "Maggie Rogers, I swear to God, if you ruin this, I'll borrow Uncle Phil's gun and kill you myself." (She found it hilarious that her roommate shared the same surname as her uncle, and never passed up an opportunity to tease Maggie about it.)

The phone kept ringing, until Natasha's voice came on the line, quiet and terse. Callie never called unless it was an emergency. "Callie?"

"Mom?" Callie's voice was immediately wobbly, and Maggie had to stuff a pillow in her mouth to avoid being heard. "There-there's something-there's something I need to tell you." Natasha immediately went onto red alert, sitting up straight in her chair.

"What is it, Cals? Are you in danger or anything?"

"Mom, you have to believe me when I say this, I totally didn't mean for it to happen, I swear, I was just at a party when it happened, and one thing led to another and I _swear _I didn't think that soda was spiked and-"

"Catalina Scarlett Barton, are you pregnant?"

"Yes." Callie whispered the last word, sounding on the precipice of tears. There was the abrupt sound of a _click,_ and she burst out laughing. Maggie inhaled loudly, having had to hold her breath throughout the entire ordeal.

"Oh my god, she's going to kill you," Maggie wailed, holding her blanket for comfort. "First she's going to to kill me for not keeping a better eye on you, then she's going to kill you for going out and getting pregnant and _oh my GOD we're going to die _CALLIE WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" She throttled her friend.

"Calm down, Mags," Callie said, peeling her friend's hands off of her shoulders. "We have at least three hours before Mom and whoever else she decided to bring get here, so there's plenty of time for us to-" She was cut off by a series of rapid knocks on the door. Maggie got up to check who it was, and paled substantially, turning back to her friend.

"Cals?" she asked squeakily. "It's your mom."

"WHAT?" Callie shrieked, racing around the room to unpack everything in a hurry. Things were tossed to and fro, clothes flung onto the bed, knicknacks placed onto stands and shelves, and even Callie's own ICER went under her pillow. "Get the door!" she said to Maggie, panicked. "I gotta make it look like I lived here!"

"You owe me _big _for this," Maggie hissed before going to open the door. Callie could hear the sounds of Maggie's pleasantries as she quickly tied her frizzy, blonde hair back into a ponytail, double-timing her speed. The serum _may _or may not have contributed to her speed, and everything was unpacked a lot faster than normal.

"I'm good!"

"Yeah, so Callie's here, come on in!" she heard Maggie chirp, and the treads of various SHIELD agents could be heard as they all filed in. Callie thought she recognized the metallic clank of Tony's Iron Man boots, and went slightly cold. That _had _to explain how they'd gotten here so fast. Timidly, she emerged into the front room, only to find an impenetrable wall in Bobbi and Natasha, both of them with their arms crossed.

"Hi Mom. Hi Aunt Bobbi," she said, waving quietly. "What brings you guys here?" Bobbi and Natasha's faces remained stoic, each of them giving her their patented dirty look. Maggie quailed, but Callie didn't-she'd learned from these dirty looks. She had no reason to be afraid of them.

Natasha dropped the quiet tones first. "You're pregnant."

Callie met her tone. "And you had to bring the cavalry? Sorry, Aunt May, not you literally," she added to May, who simply raised an eyebrow, warning her not to dissuade from the subject.

"She threatened to shoot me if we didn't take the Avenge-Jet," Tony spoke up from the back. "And this is some really shitty decor you've got here, Cals, You know, you could do with some tech upgrades," he said, waving a hand around the room. "I could get you some strobe lighting, maybe get you a better lock, these ones are actually really crappy, I could make your bed rise up, give you some more storage space, hey, how about a 65-inch flat screen on the wall-?"

"_Enough," _Natasha's curt statement shut Tony right up, and he fell into the back of the group, standing menacingly with Steve, Clint and Hunter. "Catalina Scarlett Barton, how could you be so stupid?" she asked Callie softly, and had Callie not been joking, she was pretty sure she would've been reduced to tears by now-she _hated _it when Natasha was all quiet, rather than just yelling.

"Well, Mom, you see, the thing is that-"

"I don't want to hear it." This time, it was Bobbi who cut in for Natasha, and somehow, hearing her aunt express disappointed tones was worse than hearing her mother. "Do you know who the father is?"

Callie decided to just end the joke before she actually died. Or Maggie did. "I was joking, Aunt Bobbi," she confessed. "I just wanted to see what would happen if I called Mom up and said I was pregnant. I would totally let you guys vet my boyfriend before I let him knock me up."

Neither Natasha nor Bobbi was convinced. "Prove it."

"Oh come on, she's already said she wasn't pregnant, can't you just accept her word and get it over with?" Hunter asked. He shot a look at Callie. "Although, by the way, love, you get pregnant without getting married first, I have plenty of contacts that can take him out. I'm sure Skye will volunteer to help me."

"I'll take him out in a...unique way," Skye vowed, and Callie made a note in the back of her mind to never, ever, _ever _piss off Skye. Or to play practical jokes on her. Because apparently pissing off Skye was five hundred times worse than pissing off her mother and Bobbi combined.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, exasperated. "Take a pregnancy test?" The stony look on Bobbi and Natasha's faces clearly suggested yes, and she sighed. "Fine. Someone go out and get one, 'cause I don't need the whole of campus thinking I got pregnant already from some one-night stand."

"Come on, Simmons," Skye said, tugging on Simmons' arm. "Let's go out and get the damn test. I don't want to be present for the murder." Simmons nodded, and the two of them headed out, the door shutting loudly in the silence.

Callie broke the silence first. "So...how you guys been?" Steve helpfully chimed in, wanting to break the awkward tension.

"Bucky and I are engaged."

"WHAT?" Callie and Maggie exclaimed, hurrying over to the two. Indeed, the two of them were wearing identical platinum rings, engraved with the words 'Till the end of the line'. "I'm so happy for you, Uncle Steve!" Callie launched a hug at her uncle, making sure Bucky got one too.

"So whose bridesmaid do I get to be?"

"We...haven't thought about that yet," Bucky admitted, scratching the back of his head. "Punk only just proposed yesterday." Callie calmed down a bit upon hearing that, but still grabbed her uncles in for one more hug.

"Hey, turns out they sold pregnancy tests at the campus bookstore," Skye said loudly as she and Simmons entered, making sure to enter the room with a bang. "Guess they had more pregnant students than they thought." She ripped open the box, handing one to Callie with a glare. "Take one and go."

On a second thought, one was also shoved at Simmons. "You threw up yesterday morning, the day before that, and yesterday, you wanted an all-American cheeseburger." She wrinkled her nose. "You _hate _all-American things."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Simmons said, holding her stomach cautiously as she followed Callie to the bathroom. Callie's sighs could be heard as she peed on the stick, rolling her eyes. She already knew what the window was going to show.

"Really, Tea?" she asked as Simmons followed her in. "You?" Callie averted her eyes as Simmons plopped onto the toilet, peeing on her own stick. "Making meals with Crumpet?" Simmons turned an ugly shade of red, hurriedly snatching out the test.

"Callie! You are _far _too young to be making suggestions like that!" she said, scandalized. "And it's none of your business if you're going to get any cousins anytime soon." Callie resisted the urge to roll her eyes-after all, this was _Simmons _they were talking about-she couldn't handle Callie's level of sass.

"Well, mine's negative," she announced, heading out of the bathroom. Not even bothering to wrap it in toilet paper, she marched straight into the living room, shoving it right into Bobbi and Natasha's faces. "Negative. Happy? I told you I wasn't pregnant."

"And Simmons?" Skye addressed the elephant in the room, and they all waited with bated breath as they heard the toilet flush. Still, Simmons didn't emerge.

"I'll go," Bobbi said after a while, heading into the bathroom. For a while, they all listened for a sound, any sound, to prove that Simmons was still alive. After a bit, the two of them emerged, Simmons holding onto Bobbi's arm for moral support.

"It's positive."

* * *

**You know who you are: Here's to a year. **

**One year ago, I clicked on "But Uncle Tony!" by Pikapegasus. I read all (28?) chapters at the time, and I begged for more. I don't think I ever dreamed we'd come out with what we had today. Over this year, I learned how to look at things in a new light, and not just to be cynical and jaded. When I started my junior year, I was hopeless. I learned to love myself, and that's a challenge I'm still trying to get through! What I'm trying to say is that I'm so grateful I reviewed that story that day, because I don't know who I would be if I hadn't. **

**This week's icebreaker question: _Do you have a dream school/university you'd want to go to? And if so, what is it?_ I'd personally _really _love to go to NYU, but we can't really afford that...**

**Read and review, and I'll see you guys soon!**


	51. BONUS: The Words We Used To Say

**I AM SO, SO, SO SORRY. Between college apps and life, all of the creativity has been taken out of me. (I also blame AoS, Trollied, and Friday Night Lights. The first two more than anything. ALSO BABY BABY BABY IS COMING OUT AFTER SO MANY YEARS AND BJHFDSHDFHJSDKHDFSHSDJKSFD _stupid austin film fest)_**

**This is the first thing I've been able to write for myself in a long time, so I'm sorry if it's a piece of crap. I'm trying to get the next chapter written as quickly as possible, I promise!**

**Shoutout to pinky-pie, owlsxandxhorsed and lokirulesband for following!**

* * *

I miss the words we used to say.

You used to silently trace 'I love yous' on my back every morning when you thought I was asleep, the golden sunlight hitting your hair through my bedroom window. You used to bury your head into my shoulder, counting it as the only place that you truly felt safe from the rest of the world. I'd count the freckles dotted across the back of your neck, flushed red from my blasting furnace that my dad had never gotten around to fixing. _But it's one of the perks of having an attic room, _you'd said, swiping away the frizzles of your long, honeyed hair as you struggled to put it into a ponytail. _No one ever remembers you're there. _

I used to admire you then, in those moments of peace, where the world had narrowed down to no one but the two of us. When the morning sun would, at just the right moments, hit the window and gleam off of you, making my heart swell even more. You used to catch me staring, turn away, and ask me what I was looking at.

My answer was always the same. _You. _

I used to get lost in your warm, brown eyes, used to have tears well up in my own as you were in my arms, feeling your head tuck right into my chin as we curled up on my bed. More often than not, you'd be in my arms ready to burst into tears, complete with sobs and whimpers that tore me right in two.

I used to be your home away from home, you'd once told me, _because home didn't really feel like home anymore. _

We used to pretend that we didn't exist in tandem to the rest of the world, hiding away in my room like no one would be able to find us. It was there we used to let our guard down, stripping away facades and fronts like paint peeling from a wall. It was there, I think, that you used to be the freest, your laugh lifting me up to euphoria.

It was then and there, in that room filled with plush rugs, beanbags and fairy lights amid all of my wooden furniture, that we ceased to be an _them, _creating an _us _that was unspoken. Not what people saw us as, not what people wanted us to be, and certainly not what we were forced to be.

It seemed like you'd been away from home-your _real _home-one too many times. I'll never forget the day my bedroom door nearly flew off of its hinges, her fury tangible as she marched up to us, yanking you out of my arms and marching you forcibly towards the door, all the time screaming about how you'd violated God's will and how you were going straight to confession. I missed your warmth as soon as you left, and I tossed and turned that night, craving you next to me. (I tried holding the stuffed Nemo you got me three months ago at the state fair. It was close, but not quite.) I looked awful at school the next day-and not seeing you only made it worse.

Your sister Skye called me that next night, taking pity on my disappointed voice when your name lit up my phone, only to find out it was her. She snuck me into your backyard an hour later, that night when you broke down in my arms, wailing about how you were forbidden to see me again. It was the most fragile I'd ever seen you, and I splintered apart with every syllable you sniffled, tore apart with every tear.

I didn't think this separation would last forever. After all, it was _us. _We were invincible. Nothing could keep us from each other. You'd been with me from those confusing first days of preschool, and I was damned I'd hold you until graduation. In the grand scheme of things, what was this one rough patch when we had the rest of our lives?

So I comforted you, told you that your mom was simply on one of her tangents again, that the whole thing would blow over, and that sooner or later, everything would go back to the way it was before. I'd get to hold you once again, and you'd be happy, your smile lighting up my days.

I didn't know how wrong I was.

I didn't know that you wouldn't even make it to next week, let alone graduation.

I didn't know that the next time I saw you, it would be while I was crouching over the mangled remains of a navy blue Lexus, the pouring rain blurring with my tears as I was forced to accept that yes, it was your body-the freckles on the back of your neck confirming that-and that I'd be willing to take responsibility for it because you'd been disowned by your entire family in the name of religion and that's why you'd been out in a tropical storm, driving madly to my house to stay for the night when some other guy swerved into your lane and your brakes failed...

I didn't know that your coffin would sear itself into my brain as I stood alone at the funeral home. My parents, bless them, had done everything they could, but not even they could replace the empty spot you left beside me. I didn't know that white could be so haunting, that the color of purity could also represent the color of what I'd never have again.

Skye came to see you at your grave. (She would've gone to the funeral, but your mother had locked her in the house when she learned what I'd done.) I found her there, curled up with her knees against her chest, quietly sobbing her frustrations out. She looked at me then, her mascara running in perfect streaks down her face. I could tell she was shouldering all of the guilt at your death, not being able to have saved her, not being able to have done anything, and to only be able to watch as I pulled the funeral arrangements together. It was something she _knew _she should've done, rather than sit in her room all day despite her mother's orders.

"You know she loved you, Bobbi," she'd gasped out, and I could only nod mutely because _I knew. _Knew it in the words you'd traced on my back, knew it in every touch we shared. Despite you never having said it. I sat down beside her, and together, we stared at the grave, mourning in what we'd lost. Neither of us cried, but somehow, it was if we were. Eventually, Skye put her head on my shoulder, and I wrapped an arm around hers. It was strange to think that we were the only two people left in the world who cared about you, and yet, there we were.

"I just can't believe she's gone," Skye whispered.

"I know." I whispered back, my eyes riveted to your grave. I'd chosen the quotation myself, loving how every time you said it, a mini laugh would bubble up from your throat, like you couldn't help it because you loved it so much.

_Jemma Simmons_

_March 1997-November 2015_

"_Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose." -Friday Night Lights_

She'd lost Jemma, her sister. I'd lost _you_, Jemma, and you were my best girl.

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**There's a double update! (Tomorrow, haha.) I'd forgotten I'd had something else on the server, haha...**

**Please leave comments on both, though? :D I love you guys so much!**


	52. BONUS: Psychos

**This prompt was originally given to me with "I'm writing you this letter because I know you won't judge me".  
**

**If you've already read this, it's probably because it was my pseudo chapter 50 before I realized I was saving it for a friend-iversary xD**

* * *

Nat.

I'm writing you this letter because I know you won't judge me.

I admit that it's not one of my better decisions as of late. But I was desperate, home alone with the faulty light set-you know how it is. They kept flickering, on and off and on and off until I _just couldn't take it anymore_. I was halfway to collapsing onto the scratched tiled floors, their black-and-white becoming my pillow. The rain had been pounding on my windows for the last hour, spattering the glass panes clearly and distinctively, with the darkest sky you had ever seen. There wasn't even lightning, in which I probably would've found some comfort.

You can't blame me for doing it. You really can't. It was beyond my deepest comprehensions, arousing a manner in which I had never seen in me before, and was helpless to control. Had I been in my right state of mind, I would have stopped it. But it had been such a glorious feeling, the exultation that had rushed through me like nothing else. Like I said-I almost collapsed to the kitchen floor from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You would have understood. Damn you for leaving me home alone that night. Damn you for entrenching me within the depths of my emotions. You knew that I would fall into the depths of temptation, brimming with sinful promises that no harm would come. How long have we been living together? What was it now? _Five years._ You should know better by now never to leave me alone. Bad things happen when I am left in solitude, things that haunt me for days, weeks, months to come.

It will be a long time in this dim, run-down apartment, the bland, ratty living room carpeting and minimal wooden furniture just enough to pass the standards for a habitable residence. Where the TV only comes on once a week. Where we've learned to make the rats our friends-and the occasional meal. Where the cracks in the ceiling are the only appropriate method for collecting drinking water.

Where we, despite the circumstances, have managed to call our home.

I know you told me not to do it. Warned me in those low, velvet tones that I was not to do it, no matter what. That the act was reserved for you and you alone, and that should I choose to participate in it, dire consequences should occur. But alone, with these flickering lights and rain-soaked carpets, I was free. The freedom was maddening. I revelled in it, soaked it in like these carpets would the rainwater. Anything had been possible, and something beckoned to my mind, pulling me towards the kitchen, the thrill rising within my soul with every passing second. Oh, the drawer had only been a few steps away, the newest thing in this entire damn apartment.

The cool metal of the handle was at the tips of my fingers, and I itched to pull at it, to reveal the contents inside.

I don't remember much of what happened after.

I remember lying on those tiles, smears of it on my face, my arms, the evidence of the act everywhere. I hadn't felt any regret. Satisfaction, maybe, which had quickly given way to the ice cold dread settling in my stomach, balancing out the illicit thrill running through my veins.

I remember thinking that you were going to _kill _me. Shake me until I was no more, or throw me against the fragile wall, making it crack for the last and final time. Or, possibly throw me through the already shattered-but-not-cracked window, out into the blustery cold, down fifty feet without something to catch me at the bottom. I would see fifty feet's worth of red brick flying past me as I went down, landing with a sickening _crunch_ on the pavement. The local police would find me later, limbs sprawled out, no expression of horror on my face.

But as much as you would want to kill me, hurt me, or scream at me until your vocal cords gave out from the strain-I knew you would never judge me for eating your stash of Swiss chocolate.

* * *

**This week's icebreaker: _Is there anything that you regret?_ (It's memoir week in my AP Lang class, of _course _I'm going with the one thing that fucked me up.)**

**See you guys soon!**


	53. Happy Birthday, Kambi!

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVELY GULLINKAMBI AKA THOR'S PENGUIN...please reference Natasha's penguin in "Who Doesn't Have A Soul?" for refreshers xD (I have no idea why he's named Gullinkambi, but he is...thanks to Pikapegasus and I...)**

**Shoutout to StellarAngel88 for following!**

* * *

_Was that a penguin? _

Matt Rogers squinted at the end of the hallway, frowning as he saw a misshapen waddling figure dragging Thor's hammer. As far as he knew, no one had the ability to lift Thor's hammer, let alone lift it. He hurried down the hallway silently, taking care to make sure no one saw him following it. As the penguin turned a corner, Matt checked around discreetly before scurrying after him, breaking into a sprint as it waddled into the elevator, all the time still carrying the hammer.

"Well...hi there," he said quietly as the elevator descended, the penguin staring at him. "'m Matt. Matt Philip Rogers. " When the penguin said nothing, he shrank back to the other side. "D'you gotta name?"

"I am Gullinkambi," the penguin squeaked, sounding very much like Matt's own five-year old self. "Long ago, I was rescued by the Lady Romanoff from my artificial habitat at the zoo, and taken to Asgard as it seemed I possessed the power of Thor. It is why I can lift his hammer," he explained, lifting it up casually.

"Wow," Matt said in awe, his blue eyes as wide as saucers. "I've never met anyone 'sides Uncle Thor who can lift Mew Mew. Not even Dad." Feeling more confident, he edged closer to Gullinkambi, reverently touching Mjolnir's handle. "I wonder if Uncle Phil can lift it or somethin'." Another thought crossed his mind. "Hey, Gullinkambi? Is that how I say it? How come I haven't seen you before?"

"Prince Thor decided it was better for me to reside where I could not be seen, as the world clearly is not yet ready for the unveiling of a mystical penguin," Gullinkambi answered, picking up the hammer once again as the doors opened. "And Matthew? You may call me Kambi."

"Kambi," Matt decided shortly, shivering as he was met by a blast of cold air. "Is this...is this where you live?" he asked, looking around. "I don't remember much of Uncle Brucie's science. He just said that penguins live in cold areas."

"That is correct, Matthew," Kambi said, casually depositing Mjolnir into a hammer-shaped depression in the ice. "You look cold," he said to Matt, whose lips were steadily turning blue. "Would you like a jacket?"

"D-d-d-d-do you h-h-h-h-ave one?" Matt had only been in the habitat for three minutes, but he was already freezing his butt off. He had the inkling Natasha wouldn't have been happy if Tony had to make him a prosthetic behind. Instantly, a warm, furry coat appeared and draped itself over its shoulders, and all of the energy Matt had put towards shivering automatically went towards awe. "Thanks, Kambi."

"It is no trouble," Kambi answered, motioning for Matt to follow him deeper into his enclosure. "After all, it is not every day one gets to meet the famous son of Lady Romanoff and Captain Rogers." When Matt gave him a confused look, he hastened to add, "At least, that is what I have heard from Prince Thor."

"I dunno about famous..." Matt said, scratching his head. It was actually a little harder to do when a large hood was thrown over his head, and he wished he'd asked for a hat and gloves. "All Momma and Daddy tell me is that they stopped some bad guys from doing bad things. Momma says that she'll tell me when I get hair outta my 'pits." An amused smirk escaped Kambi's beak, and he swung open a door, ushering Matt in.

"This is where I reside," he said, and Matt's head spun as he took in the scenery around him. He and Kambi were standing on a high, icy ledge, and below them lay a maze of sledding lanes, twisting and turning deeper and deeper below him until he couldn't see the bottom. In fact, to his right seemed to lay the starting line to the entire course, marked by a red and white checkered border. A chilly wind blew throughout the entire complex, but this time, Matt could see the large air conditioner in the corner, supported by the coolly lit lighting system. "It is not much, but I hope you will find it interesting."

"It's...it's..." Matt was at a loss for words, half of them taken away by the cold temperature. "How do you get _around_?"

"Simple," Kambi launched himself onto his belly, gaining speed as he zoomed down the long, twisting paths. "All you have to do is slide!" Matt stared for a few moments as he watched his newly found penguin friend glided smoothly down the spirals. He gulped, watching dizzily as Kambi grew smaller and smaller. It didn't _look _too hard...

"Alrighty," he said to himself, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess here goes nothin'." With a cry, he threw himself onto the ice slide, his eyes wide as the ice whizzed past him at eye level, more air blowing through his unruly hair. "WHOOOO!" Before he knew it, he was at the bottom, Kambi watching amusedly as he hopped up, brushing ice off of his coat.

"Whoa," he declared quietly, gazing up at the small patch of light that was the top of the tunnel. "How many floors did I go down?"

"You started at approximately the sixty-fifth floor," Kambi informed him, busily fiddling with his own door. "We are now on the fortieth." Matt's heart seized. _The fortieth?_

"Uncle Tony said to never go on the fortieth!" he squeaked, panic showing on his face. "He's gonna kill me if he found out I was on the fortieth floor!" He grabbed onto Kambi's fin, tugging on it insistently. "Kambi, you gotta take me back. I can't be on the fortieth floor!"

Remarkably, Kambi's face was nothing but serene, and he said nothing as his own door opened to reveal a lavishly decorated igloo. "The reason Stark has forbidden access onto the fortieth floor is because it is the ventilation system for my abode, and one simply does not want to get lost in it, lest they never find their way out again." The urgency on Matt's face collapsed.

"Oh." Wonder dawned on him as he stepped in, his jaw dropping open as he regarded the shimmering ice dome above his head. "Did Uncle Tony build all of this for you?"

"Nay, 'twas simply the magic of Asgard," Kambi said, placing Moljnir on his small, wooden table. "And now we wait, Matthew," he said finally. He gestured to the ground. "Please, won't you sit? I've got quite the selection of rugs for you to choose."

"...sure?" Timidly, Matt pulled up a blue, fuzzy rug and plopped onto it, the hood of his coat immediately falling over his eyes. "If you don't mind me asking, Kambi...what are we waiting for?" His father had always taught him to be polite in company-Matt guessed that penguins were no different.

"Why, your relatives, of course," Kambi's beady, black eyes sparkled. "After all, they are going to come looking for you, are they not?"

* * *

"WHERE THE HELL IS HE?"

To say that the Avengers were looking for Matt was an understatement. Their efforts probably ran more along the lines of 'turning everything over, whether it was rationally possible or not, and trying to find Matt in it'. So far, Steve and Bucky had turned over a couple of couches each, and Natasha had gone so far as to even look in the refrigerator for her son.

"I can't believe we can't find him!" Natasha exclaimed, hysterically brushing her hair out of her face as Steve righted yet another piece of furniture. The stress was starting to show on her face, despite her tight lid on her emotions. "He's gotta be around here _somewhere, _Steve, I just don't believe he'd up and run like that, he's only five, for God's sake..."

"That, or this is the greatest game of hide and seek he's ever played," Steve chuckled. "Clint will be extremely disappointed if Matt manages to beat him at age five." Natasha gave him a glare, and he backed away, his arms in the air. "Alright, alright. So he's missing."

"I think I have a clue as to where he went," Tony dashed in, nearly skidding on the polished floor and crashing into Steve. "J and I have been going over the footage from the last couple of hours, and the last time we saw Matty boy was when he was going into the elevator with a weird figure." He held up a tablet, pointing to a black and white figure on the screen. Behind him was Matty, looking as if he'd entered the elevator completely voluntarily.

"So where did the elevator go?" Bucky asked, sighing. "Was the the Tower of Terror or something?" He remembered how the _last _prank had gone-poor FitzSimmons had had to be fished out of a whirlpool. Simmons' nightmares hadn't gone away for weeks.

Tony paled. "It went to the fortieth floor." All of their faces went slack-they all knew it was forbidden to head to the fortieth floor, even to going so far as to drill into Matt's head not to visit it. "There's not point of return on the fortieth floor."

"Oh, do not be so despondent about it, Friend Stark, Thor rumbled as he entered, his maroon cape flapping beside him. "There is but another way to enter the fortieth floor. Although whether we will all escape unscathed, I cannot say."

"Tell me," Natasha hissed at him, her mouth set in a resolute line. _"Tell. Me." _When Thor hesitated, she reached for a knife, twirling it in her hands. "Lady Sif likes me. She'll understand why I had to murder you."

"The elevator," Thor gestured. "Let us begin on the sixty-fifth floor."

* * *

"Oh _fuck, _it's cold," Tony hissed as they emerged onto the landing of Kambi's lair, all of them wholly unprepared for the blast of cold wind that hit them. "How the hell did I engineer something this cold?"

"Language." Steve murmured.

"It is some Jotun magic," Thor answered , peering down the crater once more. "That is the only way I can fathom that it would get this cold in an area such as this. I see that Gullinkambi has made good use of the climate here."

"You call this ice maze a good use?" Tony asked incredulously, looking down and almost tipping over. Natasha grabbed his collar to prevent him from going down. "I call it _great_. How long do you guys think it'll take me to build something like this instead of the staircases?"

Steve and Natasha exchanged looks. "No," they said in unison. "No."

"First one to the bottom?" Bucky asked, peering down the slide. "Think it'll hold my weight?" Thor didn't give him a chance to reply as the god plopped down onto the slide, gaining speed as he went down on his stomach. Natasha was next to follow him, screaming as she spun every which way. Steve gingerly stepped onto the ramp, not wanting to follow his wife's results, only to have his foot give out beneath him. He landed with an audible _thud _on the slide before starting down, and he scrabbled at the ramp, attempting to find some grasp before heading down, shouting all the way.

Tony, who was the last one, peered into the chasm, levelling his chances of jumping and surviving before sighing and balling up his sweatshirt, leaping onto the ice slide. "What the actuallllll fuuuuuuccccckkkk!"

He crashed into the ice wall across from the end of the slide, the collision echoing loudly in the chamber. Steve and Bucky looked concernedly at him, while Thor and Natasha pressed on unconcernedly.

"Stark? You good?" Tony waved off their helping hands as he stood up, his vision wobbling a bit before turning back to normal. "You got a concussion or anything?"

"I'm fine," Tony insisted, staggering on despite the throbbing pain in his head. "Let's go see what the squirt's up to, alright?" Steve and Bucky brought up the rear of the group, the five of them cautiously making their way through the lair.

"That's the door?" Steve asked, squatting down to the entrance of Kambi's igloo. "I don't think I can make it in there."

"Is that Daddy?" a muffled voice asked, and a fifty pound weight smashed into Steve as Matt excitedly flow into his arms. "Hi Daddy!" Pulling himself out of Steve's embrace, Matt grinned happily. "I met Kambi today! He's a penguin that Momma rescued from the zoo once!"

Natasha turned to Thor, who looked sheepish. "Gave it to an animal sanctuary, huh, Thor?" she asked sarcastically, planting her hands on her hips. "Is _that _what happened to Stevie Jr?"

"His name is Gullinkambi," Matt insisted. "But you can call him Kambi for short!"

"I was indeed once named Stevie Jr," Kambi said as he emerged from the igloo also, holding Mjolnir's hammer aloft. "Your mother decided to name me after your father, for he seemed to be the only reason she still had a soul." He slid the hammer over to Matt, letting it come to a stop at his feet. "I believe you have earned the right to a trial, young Matthew."

Everyone held their breath, especially Tony. His pride would never survive this if his nephew picked it up before he did. Matt himself looked slightly apprehensive, and he glanced at all of his relatives nervously. "You guys'll still love me if I can't pick it up, right?" he asked.

"Honey, _no one _in this family can pick it up," Natasha reassured him, crouching down to ruffle his hair. "We might not love you if you manage to pick it up, though," she joked, giving him a small kiss on the head. "Just remember that." Matt stuck out his tongue at his mother.

"Why, 'cause you'd be jealous all the-whoa!" Matt had heaved with all of his strength, and Mjolnir nearly sent him backwards with its force. He gazed at his parents in shock. Steve looked like he was about to have a heart attack, while Natasha was cursing herself for leaving her phone upstairs _this one time_..."I can lift Mew Mew!"

"And now that we've learned that, we've gotta coach you on how _not _to call it Mew Mew," Steve sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I still regret letting your Aunt Darcy teach you how to say that in the first place."

"Well done, Matthew!" Thor boomed, picking up Matt and swinging him in a circle. "You are worthy of the power of Thor, indeed!" Matt let out a giggle-scream as Thor tickled him, nearly being dropped to the ground.

"Does this mean I get to go to Asgard?" Matt asked once the celebrations had died down, mostly after Bucky had tossed him into the air a few times and Tony had broken down into a fake crying jag.

"Of course!" Thor exclaimed, holding Mjolnir aloft and allowing them to soar upwards. "I am sure Lady Sif would be honored to meet the son of Lady Romanoff. But for now, you must say goodbye to Gullinkambi, Matthew."

"Bye, Kambi!" Matt waved a tiny hand at his new friend, who waved back just as amusedly.

"Goodbye, Matthew. I am sure we shall meet again some day."

* * *

**Because the world needed cute Kambi AND I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR HIS BIRTHDAY aka there is an adorable picture somewhere of Thor holding a penguin that says "THIS PENGUIN IS WORTHY OF THE POWER OF THOR"**

**Your reviews really do make my day! And they inspire me to write faster, especially in this college app dejection. Love you all! :)**


	54. BRUCE AND STEVE DID IT

**I'm not sure this means I'm up to regular again. I'm just going to call it lucky and say it happens when it happens? ****But whatever goes, don't _anyone _think I forgot. I love you all, even those I don't know yet! **

**Shoutout to Kuroshibata70, musicbutterfly, and nefati for following! **

* * *

"Hey, whose turn was it to bring Starbucks?" Tony asked as he stumbled in, his eyes barely half-open. "It's sure as hell not me, 'cause I brought it last time." He blearily glared at all of the Avengers present. "Who the hell is bringing Starbucks?" He got his answer when Natasha shoved a drink into his face, nearly tipping it over.

"Ten bucks, Stark, hand it over." He slapped a ten into Natasha's hand, and she pocketed it gleefully. (Tony could never remember how much his coffee _actually _cost, so Natasha always took the opportunity to make some extra money.) "Steve, PSL, Barton, double machiatto with an espresso shot, Thor, strawberry banana smoothie, Bruce, pomegranate iced tea, Hill, black with two creams, Director, hazelnut PSL." Everyone forked over their money, Clint taking care to count out his change to the exact penny.

"We've managed to locate a HYDRA base in Indianapolis," Fury got right down to the brunt of the meeting, looking as serious as one could with a pumpkin spice latte. "There could be some potentially dangerous technology in there, so we need you all in there." Clint was already nodding off, despite his coffee. Natasha had to resort to slapping him upside the head.

"Since it's in a rural area, you six will parachute in and drive from the local airfield," Hill continued, pulling up a holoscreen of the plans. "Banner, you'll drive." There was an explosion of protests, namely from Tony's expletives.

"What do you mean Brucie gets to drive?" he demanded, throwing a dirty look at his science bro. "Why can't I drive? Or Barton drive? Hell," he said, throwing his hands up. "Why can't _Rogers _drive?"

"Language," Steve muttered under his breath.

"Because Romanoff and Barton can't drive in rural areas-" Clint and Natasha scoffed in tandem, mildly offended. "-Saigon, 2007. You _don't _drive, and Rogers still panics every time he's at a stoplight." Fury's grimace tightened. "Banner's driving."

"And no one's thinking about how Bruce might Hulk out if he has to parachute out of a plane?" Tony asked. "It's jumping out of a moving vehicle, at 3000 feet, with only cloth to hold you up!" Another thought struck him. "And what if Indianapolis meets the Other Guy? He just met Taipei last week!"

"If you're so concerned, Tony," Clint drawled, lazily swivelling over to look at him as he sipped his coffee. "Then why don't you make sure you've got Banner's six the entire time?" Tony turned red, shutting up immediately. "That's what I thought."

"So how's this going to work?" Steve asked. "Retrieval or destruction?" Hill gave him what was clearly a disappointed glare, and he shrank back, hurriedly flipping through the file for something he might've missed.

"We're in an _urban _area, Rogers," Natasha rolled her eyes, smacking Steve in the head with her balled-up files. "You tell me whether we're supposed to blow up another city without taking it into the air first."

"Speaking of which, where _are _they?" Clint hummed, looking up from his phone. "Even if they were running late, they should've been here by now." There was the sound of a quick zip, and suddenly, Pietro and Wanda were standing in the doorway, holding several cups of coffee. Both of them stared at the rest of the group, confused.

"So..." Clint scratched his head, befuddled. "Does this mean it was Spooky and Speedy's turn to bring Starbucks?"

* * *

"Coming up on the drop point,"

Hill's voice filtered through the speakers to the back room, and each of them got out of their seat, strapping on their parachutes. Steve quietly tried to leave his on the floor of the hanger, but Wanda sold him out with a glare, heaving it back up and tossing it at him. Natasha's long-suffering sigh ricocheted off of the walls, joined by Tony and Bruce's.

Steve had jumped out of _way _too many things without a parachute lately.

"Can I just-?" he asked. He was met by a chorus of 'No's. He tried again. "But what if I-?" When Natasha turned around to fully glare at him, he quailed, strapping his parachute on with a huff. "You guys are no fun."

"Says the man who thinks his idea of a good time is challenging random people to games in Central Park," Tony scoffed, snapping his faceplate on. "We don't need you dying out there, Cap,"

"Drop," Hill barked, and one by one, each of them jumped out of the plane into the night. Steve waited until Clint and Natasha had jumped out, then shucked his parachute, jumping out with nothing but his shield. He passed both assassins on their way down, doing a mid-air somersault just to spite them.

Clint sighed, tapping his comm. "Cap jumped out without his chute again." Everyone else's sighs could be heard, especially Hill's-she'd bet on Steve not jumping without parachutes for the rest of the month.

"I'll kill him later," Wanda deadpanned amid several murmurs of agreement. "I specifically told him not to go jumping out of any more planes." She was the second one on the ground after Steve, shucking her discarded chute as she walked over and smacked him in the head. "What did I say about jumping out of planes without a parachute?"

"Not to, and I quote specifically, 'pull any more dumbass moves that could lead to his potential death or he'll go meet Red Skull in a dark, dark hell'," Pietro speedily rattled off, landing gracefully next to Wanda. "And she's right, you know," he added as an afterthought when Steve glared at him. "I do not think it would be wise to endanger yourself without proper protection."

"That just brings up jokes I don't even want to make," Tony wisecracked as he hit the ground. "But I concur. Sheath it before you thrust it," he winked, and Steve turned a bright red as the twins roared with laughter. "Wouldn't want any baby super soldiers running around the Tower."

"No, it was _clearly _twenty-five somersaults," Natasha's raised voice echoed through the woods. "You missed that double I made while you were pretending you could talk to that eagle."

"I can actually talk to eagles, Nat!" Clint protested as the two of them emerged into the clearing where the rest of the Avengers were. "And that was not a double. It was a crappy one and a half disguised as a double. So I didn't count it." They glared at each other, and he crossed his arms. "Twenty-four."

"You can't talk to eagles," Natasha insisted. "_No one _can, Barton. Just because you're Hawkeye doesn't mean you can talk to birds."

"Does too!"

"Does not."

"Does too!"

"Does _not, _Barton." The rest of the team was watching amusedly.

"Does _too, _Romanoff."

"Does not," Bruce put in as he arrived on the ground, Thor close by. "Clint, no one can talk to birds. No matter how hard you try." Natasha snorted in victory. Clint pouted and stomped the ground.

"I'll prove you guys wrong. Some day."

"Ride's here," Tony called as a beat-up, blue minivan pulled up to the airfield. "Wow, SHIELD really does spare no expense," he quipped as he tore over to the passenger seat. "Shotgun!" He missed Bruce's mild protests as he hopped in, slamming the door to avoid protest.

"I've got it," Steve sighed, opening the passenger seat door and yanking Tony out by the scruff of his shirt. "You're not working the GPS, Stark, I am," He unceremoniously threw Tony into the backseat, climbing in as Bruce got into the driver's seat.

"I can work it five times better than you can, old man!" Tony called, sprawled out into one of the middle seats. "We're gonna get lost and you know it!" Steve didn't even bother replying to that, just climbed into the passenger seat as Bruce started the van.

"1225 Westmoreland Ave," Clint relayed to him, reading off of his phone. Steve frowned as he poked cautiously at the GPS in front of him, sighing when he didn't get the result he wanted. "Nope, Steve, hit the back button," he said as Steve hit the 'Where to?' button once more. "Are you sure you don't want help on this?"

"_I've got this, Clint,_" Steve hissed. The last thing he needed was to be teased mercilessly by Tony for not being able to operate something as simple as a GPS. "My fingers are just larger than normal, that's all." Tony snorted from his seat, and Natasha kicked him in the side.

"Are you okay with driving, Dr. Banner?" Wanda asked nervously. Bruce was clutching the wheel at ten and two, making pantomime driving motions while alternating his foot between the brake and the gas. His fingers darted between turn signals, and would occasionally turn the wipers on. "How long has it been since you last drove?"

"I can't say that I remember," Bruce muttered, nearly hitting the gas instead of the brake. The van came to a screeching halt at a traffic light, everyone lurching forward. "Definitely before the Other Guy-there isn't much driving you should be doing in a third-world country." No one missed the small tendrils of red floating towards Bruce, although the thankfulness was palpable when Bruce's driving evened out.

"Take a left," Steve called out, and frowned once more as they turned into a school driveway. "What..." He turned around to Clint, who looked just as confused. "Are you sure you gave me the right address, Clint?"

"I'm sure," Clint replied slowly, looking around. "Are you sure you put it into the GPS right? Cause I don't think there'd be a HYDRA base at a _school_," He paused, frowning. "And at an elementary school, no less."

"It certainly isn't the oddest place we have had to raid," Pietro allowed, and the rest of them had to agree at that. "Perhaps the school is only a front for the true base?" _That _could very well be true, they all mused, and it bolstered them a bit, scrambling out of the van, facing it warily.

"This goes against everything I've ever thought about HYDRA," Clint muttered as he quietly picked the lock. "Elementary school kids, really? Guess they're trying to start their recruits early." The door opened for them silently, and they crept in, the hallway eerily lit with solely the emergency lights. He smiled softly at the paper handprints marking the students' names, reaching out to trace one with _Cooper _written on it. Natasha saw it, and quietly placed a hand on his back, pressing him onwards.

"It could be anywhere," Steve whispered as they continued down the hallway, coming to a set of doors and realizing that there were at least two more wings to the school. "We'll have to split up." He quickly assessed them all. "Clint, Natasha, search the rooms in this wing. Tony, Thor, take the wing across the hallway. Wanda, Pietro, take the cafe and the gym. Bruce and I will search the upper grade wing."

"Break!" Tony cheered loudly, only to be shushed by the rest of them as they headed off. "It was worth saying!"

* * *

"So how's he doing?" Natasha asked Clint quietly as they headed down the hallway, their weapons out if needed. "It's been what, six months since you've been home?"

"Yeah," Clint said warily, ducking into a classroom to rapidly stake it out. Third grade now. Laura went to parent teacher conferences just last week. Says he's been getting kind of aggressive at recess. You know, tackling kids into the ground and all that."

"I wonder where he gets that from," Natasha said wryly, the barest hint of a smirk gracing her face. "And how's Lila? She's what, going into the first grade?" She cast a look at the scribbles art on the walls, reverently touching a glittery handprint. "Can't imagine her as anything but a chubby little baby."

"She misses you, you know," Clint answered conversationally as they peered into the last classroom in the wing. "The last time I called, all she could ask about was when her Auntie Nat was coming to visit. Makes me feel real great as a father, let me tell you." He flashed her a grin. "At least I know where her priorities lie." They scanned the room once, ascertaining that there was no threat, before Natasha spoke into her comm.

"First grade wing's clear."

"Copy," Steve answered. "Bruce and I are just about finished with checking the upper grade wing. Nothing of suspicion here." There was a pause. "Stark, Thor, you copy?" When there was more silence, he tried again. "Tony? Thor?" Clint turned to Natasha, worry in his eyes. If anything had happened to the two of them-

_BOOM. _

The loud, deafening roar shook the building, nearly knocking the two of them off of their feet. Luckily, they'd grabbed onto each other just in the nick of time, and Natasha cautiously peeked out past the double doors that separated their wing from the rest of the school, her eyes widening as she saw the inferno that was rapidly coming towards them.

"_COVER BLOWN!" _Bruce screamed into their ears, and they could hear the sound of his feet pounding the linoleum. "Get out by any means possible!" Clint and Natasha sprinted towards the other end of the hallway as flames licked at their feet, the former cursing Tony under his breath.

"How much do you wanna bet he blew something up?" Natasha yelled to him as they pushed the doors open, emerging into the cold air. Clint was coughing, she patting him on the back as he caught his breath.

"My..entire...next month's...paycheck..." Quickly, Clint raised himself up, comically shaking his fist at the front of the school. "DAMN YOU, STARK!"

Natasha pressed a finger to her ear. "Avengers, report."

"Clear," Pietro and Wanda. "A little singed, but okay."

"Clear." Bruce could be heard hacking his lungs out in the background. "Well, Bruce'll be okay after he stops hacking his lungs out. Who blew up the school, anyways?" Just then, the roof of the school exploded outwards as Tony and Thor flew out of its top, landing dramatically on the school's front lawn. Natasha just sighed and began to pick her way around the rubble, quietly finding the handprint that said _Cooper _on it and sticking it into her pocket while Clint wasn't looking.

Steve was glaring at Tony when they came around to the front, the latter not even trying to look guilty. "You just blew up a _school, _Tony. Tell me you feel _some _remorse!" Tony just shrugged while Thor gazed concernedly at the burning remains of the building.

"Not really, considering it was a HYDRA stronghold," he haphazardly answered, holding up a hard drive in his hand. "I downloaded all of their information onto this drive before I blew it to hell, though."

Suddenly, Clint perked up from where he'd been bent double, holding his knees. "They're coming," he said quietly, holding up a finger. The entire group went silent, trying to hear what Clint was talking about. Slowly, they heard the faint whirs of a helicopter, along with shouts and tire treads rocketing up the street.

Steve went pale. "We gotta get outta here." All of their eyes strayed over to where Bruce had haphazardly parked the car before their break-in, wincing as the front went up in a whoosh of flames. "Well...there goes our only way out."

"There might be another one," Natasha croaked, already dreading what was forming in her head. Slowly, she turned to the back lot, where a line of school buses sat parked, the moonlight and flames gleaming off of their yellow exteriors. "And when I say it's not going to be pretty, I mean it's not going to be pretty."

* * *

"_Attention, Avengers, this is your bus driver speaking," _Clint's voice oozed from the front of the bus, where he'd taken advantage of the loudspeaker as soon as he'd gotten in. "We'll be making a couple of sudden stops, so please make sure to secure your belongings, especially your lunches."

With that, he put the pedal to the metal, the bus lurching out of the lot and weaving through the side streets. Steve, who'd taken up residence in the back, was thrown into the seat back in front of him, his shield sliding out of the seat next to him and forward several rows. Natasha, who had procured a helmet and several Ambien as soon as they'd climbed onto the bus, was already passed out, her lithe frame sprawled out across the seat.

He fought the urge to whip out his camera and take a picture. It might not be as convenient as a phone, but at least the quality was better.

The bus ran over several potholes as Clint drove wildly, fishtailing so that the HYDRA agents on their tail would collide with each other, creating a free trail for them. Each time the bus hit a pothole, each of the Avengers was sent towards the ceiling. Mjolnir nearly went through the roof once, only saved by Thor making a grab at it in the last moment.

"Clint, it's not working," Steve called to the front, trying to hold back the chicken pot pie that was threatening to make a reappearance. "You gotta get on the highway." Clint did a single fist pump before veering sharply onto an entryway, the headlights of the HYDRA agents still following them onto the highway.

At least there weren't any potholes here.

"CLINT, THERE'S A SEDAN IN FRONT OF THE-" Bruce never got to finish his sentence as Clint slammed on the brakes to stop behind a small, maroon sedan. Everyone flew forwards once more, the normal force strong enough that Steve's shield slid backwards once more to where he was. Just as Steve was about to make a grab for it, Clint slammed on the gas, sliding it forwards and out of his reach.

"This is quite amusing," Thor was gripping the seat like it was the lap bar on an amusement park ride, a grin on his face. "I did not know constant starts and stops could be so exhilarating! You must do more, friend Barton!" he encouraged, and Clint let out a whoop as he slammed on the brakes once more.

Somewhere in the middle of the bus, Tony was holding his head in his hands. "I thought you said you know how to drive this thing, Barton!" he called to the driver's seat. It was one of the reasons he'd agreed, after all-Natasha _had _vouched for his bus driving skills.

"I never said I knew how to drive this thing _well_!" Clint called back as he slammed on the brakes again, causing two HYDRA cars to swerve off of the highway and into the ravine below. "I don't know why any of you didn't object to this!"

Tony silently cursed himself for not securing some Ambien before this highway to hell had started. Clint revved forwards once again, and this time, the squeak of Steve's shield pierced through all of their ears like nails against a chalkboard.

Cautiously, Steve got out of his seat, edging into the aisle with one hand on the seat so that he'd have something to hold onto if Clint made any sudden stops. Fortunately for him, Clint seemed to be on a long stretch of straight highway as he bent down, scanning for the telltale glint of his shield.

_There it was! _Steve quickly scooted up a few rows, making a grab for his shield under the seat when-

_SCCRREEEEEEEEECH. _

Clint hit the brakes unexpectedly and quickly, causing them to scream and Steve to be thrown into the row as his shield slipped past his fingertips once more. He sighed and sullenly plopped into another row-his shield could wait until later. Behind him, Natasha slowly slid into the crack between the seat and the back of the next row, her snores filling up the rear.

Steve _had _to take a picture this time. The flash alerted Natasha to her surroundings, and she snorted, quickly becoming aware to her surroundings. She took off her helmet, peering blearily out the window. "Where the fuck are we?"

"If I had to guess, somewhere south of Indy," Tony answered, leaning back several rows. "Hey, Romanoff. What stuff did you take and where can I get some of it?"

"No, no and no," Natasha smirked, putting her helmet back on. "You're not screwing up the whole op with your snores." Tony pouted and slumped back into his seat, shooting straight back up when he heard Bruce's deep groan.

"Bruce?" he asked nervously, tensing when he was met with another groan. A peer around the seat revealed Bruce to be sweating profusely, his face a nasty shade of green. "Is this bus gonna meet the Other Guy?" Clint slammed on his brakes in caution, apologizing profusely as he heard Wanda and Pietro smack their heads against the bus seats.

"Barton," Pietro threatened weakly, raising an arm in the air. "If you ever need to drive a vehicle again, so help me, I will run you over there myself." Wanda nodded in agreement, eyeing the trashcan near the bus's door. She was wondering just how fast her brother would have to move to get it when Bruce suddenly stood up, wrenched open a side window, stuck his head out, and let go a torrential stream of vomit, letting it fly down the highway as the bus whipped speedily along.

"WITH A STARTING VELOCITY OF 12.5 METERS PER SECOND, A HORIZONTAL ACCELERATION OF TWENTY METERS PER SECOND, AND A TIME OF TWO POINT THREE SECONDS, THAT'S A DISTANCE OF EIGHTEEN METERS BEHIND US, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, AND WE HAVEN'T HIT ANYONE-oh," Tony had been halfway to shouting out the physics of Bruce's projectile vomit when they heard the loud _splat _of the vomit finding its mark. "I think we hit someone."

Since he was the closest, Steve turned around cautiously, squinting as he tried to figure out who it was that they'd hit. Perhaps they'd pull over apologize, and offer to clean the poor victim's car. After all, it wasn't every day you got hit with flying chunks of the Hulk's vomit.

He peered past the headlights to the Greyhound Bruce had hit, his eyes widening when he saw the vengeful faces of the group standing at the windshield. Steve gulped, cringing in embarrassment. "Clint," he called up to the front of the bus, "how much gas does this thing have in it?"

"Started with a full tank," Clint called back proudly. "Why, didja find out who we hit?" Natasha turned around, squinting in the same way Steve had. She let out an audible groan. "Who is it, Tasha?" Instead of saying anything, Natasha slapped her helmet back on and reached for more Ambien-she was going to need it.

"He hit Agent Coulson's team," Steve groaned, and Clint nearly slammed on the brakes once more in shock. "Apparently, they're out on the highway this time of night, too. And I think they're out for blood now."

"Someone call Coulson," Clint called, tossing his phone into the nether. Tony caught it with one outstretched hand, rubbing Bruce's back with the other. The aforementioned man was still a sickly shade of green, but with a plastic bag that had been conjured out of nowhere, he seemed to be doing better.

"Agent," he said in a clipped tone, nearly dropping Clint's phone as threats issued continuously from the speaker. When he put it back to his ear, his voice had gone up several octaves. "No, I promise Bruce didn't purposely throw up on your windshield. No, sir, I didn't know it was a rental. Yes, I'll pay for damages-WHAT THE FUUUUUUU-"

The school bus tipped precariously into the air as it was hit from behind, Steve actually flying from the back of the bus to somewhere in the middle, ducking as his shield flew over his head. Across from him, Natasha made the same journey, landing on top of a seat in a tangle of limbs.

Despite everything, she was still snoring.

"What the hell was that, Phil?" Clint had slammed on the gas to avoid flipping the bus over, and the rear end landed with a loud _thud _as it hit the road again, crushing a HYDRA squad car. "Are you trying to kill us or something?"

Coulson's voice was chilling. "This means _war, _Barton."

* * *

"DC, I thought you said this bus had wi-fi!" Skye complained as her fingers flew over her keyboard, her frown only growing. "I can't find a signal anywhere! How do you expect me to hack HYDRA if there isn't a wi-fi signal? And plus, I promised my followers I'd live tweet the whole chase!"

When her complaint was lost among the babble of voices, she tried again. "DC? Wi-fi? On the bus? Hello?"

"Skye, your father and I-_Coulson_ and I-are having a discussion," May calmly admonished from her spot at the front of the tour bus. "Although it would be much appreciated if you could tell him that he can't drive the bus because he has one hand."

"May, we've been _over _this!" Coulson argued as he swerved through several lanes on the highway, all of them swaying precariously. "I can drive just fine with only one hand!" He managed to knock the back end of the bus into a HYDRA car, sending it spinning out. "See what I mean?" The entire Bus team screamed as they nearly collided with a large school bus. Seconds later, a large chunk of vomit hit their windshield, May recoiling in disgust.

"_AND STARTING AT VELOCITY OF 12.5 METERS..." _

"Is that Tony Stark?" Fitz asked, peering up from behind the seat. "Tell me Coulson didn't just crash into a bus holding Tony Stark. I need access to the randomizer he's got in his lab, and I'd prefer it if we were on good terms, thank you very much!"

"I wouldn't care if it was _Ghandi _that threw up on my windshield, they're not getting away with this," May muttered, hip-chucking Coulson out of the driver's seat. He landed with a thud on the floor, and she strapped herself in, throwing the bus into reverse and backing up.

"May, you've got a squad car thirty degrees to the left..." Bobbi was flitting back and forth between rows, making sure that all of the squad cars were directly in her reversed trajectory. "Forty to the right...hard left, May, _I said hard left!_" The tour bus swung to the right, and Bobbi let out a groan. "I swear, sometimes you take directions worse than Hunter does."

"I think you can put it into drive, Agent May, the distance should be enough that the resulting momentum will carry enough force," Simmons volunteered timidly from next to Fitz, not wanting to see May kill Bobbi. The two of them were crouched behind small trash cans, bracing themselves for the worst.

With a determined look on her face, May threw the bus into drive, pressing the pedal down so hard it nearly touched the floor. Coulson scrambled to strap himself in, bracing for the impact.

_BAM! _

FitzSimmons watched in amazement as the school bus in front of them swung upward, doing a wheelie as it sped forward. A second later, it crashed back down, crushing a car in its wake. As Coulson's phone rang, Simmons nearly launched herself at it to pick it up, not wanting to have to deal with May's outburst. "Director Coulson's phone."

"_What the hell, Coulson?" _

Simmons let out a squeak, launching over the phone to Coulson. "Clint Barton, sir." Coulson sighed as May reversed, pulling the tour bus up next to the door of the school bus. "And I don't think he sounds happy."

_Boom!_

"And I don't think May looks too happy about that, either," Fitz babbled nervously as he raced towards the back of the bus. He whipped open the door to the bathroom, where he and Simmons had sent up a mini laboratory. "Jem, the hydrochloric acid's on bloody fire!"

"I thought you said it wouldn't combust!" Simmons shouted as she hurtled towards the back of the bus, coming to stand next to Fitz as they watched the flames. "Although, I must admit, the resulting flame is quite a pretty color..."

"I didn't think it would combust either!" he exclaimed. "Must've been all the waste that was left in the toilet...you never know what people've left in there..."

"I can't believe this," Bobbi muttered as she aimed a fire extinguisher at their work. "You two managed to set a _tour bus _bathroom on fire. A _tour bus _bathroom." FitzSimmons gave her identical puppy dog faces as she finished putting the fire out. "And don't even try to plead with me. You're both barred from the lab when we get back."

"What the hell, Coulson?" Clint demanded, storming upon their bus. "You just rear-ended our bus! On a _highway!_" His nose crinkled as something caught his nose. "Do I smell something on fire?" Bobbi raised the fire extinguisher from the back. "Where's Hunter?" He looked towards Bobbi. "He's not _in _the fire you're trying to put out, is he?"

"Grow up," Hunter echoed irritably from the back row; he'd been asleep right up until May had back-ended the Avengers. "I just took out a bloody gang of HYDRA goons, could I at least get some rest before debriefing?" He shot a look at Mack, who was a row across from him. "Hell, even the tank man gets some sleep! Why don't I?"

"Because _he _wasn't the asshole that caused us to have to steal a tour bus in the first place," May muttered under her breath.

"What are you doing on the highway anyways?" Coulson demanded of Clint. "You're supposed to be taking out a HYDRA base!"

"I could say the same of you!" Clint answered. "Freaking Banner was driving, and then Steve probably hit the wrong address, and then _he _made the call to go into the damn school, and Banner parked the car in a freaking spot where it blew up, so we had to steal a bus!"

"What, are we blaming it all on us now?" Bruce's faint voice could be heard through the bus' open windows. "May I remind you that Stark was the one that blew a hole in the roof!"

"_It was Point Break's idea!" _

"I don't care whose idea it was, _you threw up on the windshield!" _May hollered out the window. "You threw up _backwards _on the windshield! And now we've got a fire in the back of the bus and several HYDRA cars under our wheels!"

"We would've had more if you'd taken a hard left, May!" Bobbi called from the back. May shot her the middle finger.

"We would've had them all if you'd let me drive!" Skye protested. "I've lived in a van before, it's not that much different from driving a tour bus!" There was the sound of a man getting out of a car, and immediately, everyone on the left side of the school bus had their weapons out, shooting at the man.

"THREE POINTS!" Natasha could be heard gloating to Steve as she picked off the next truck that was pulling up towards them. "Barton, take back point with Morse!" Bobbi and Clint opened the emergency door, Hunter tossing her a gun as the three of them began to defend the rear.

"Use the acid!" Simmons shrieked as bullets flew over their heads. "It'll incapacitate them!" Bobbi nodded, and as Clint covered her, reached into the bathroom for the beaker to lob it out. As soon as it hit one of the cars, it exploded in a giant ball of flame, forcing them all to duck and cover their ears. When it was over, Hunter poked his head out quickly, looking left and right to see if there were any HYDRA cars left.

"I don't think there's anything left," Wanda suggested quietly, finally daring to stick her head up. "We seem to have incapacitated everyone." Slowly, everyone came to the same consensus, congregating outside the buses.

"So we've got two stolen buses, several fireballs, and a bunch of wrecked cars," Clint summed up, tilting his head to see the cars May had crushed. "Who was driving that, Hunter? 'Cause they're all on the wrong side of the road, mate."

"Shut up, my driving's not _that _bad," Hunter defended. When Bobbi, Skye and Clint all stared him down, he put his hands aloft in a gesture of peace. "Fine. But I _swear _May was driving this time!"

"Excellent, Agent May, then this is yours." Maria Hill stepped out of a SHIELD van holding a large manila file aloft. "I expect to see it in my office no later than 1200 hours tomorrow." May bit back a groan. There was most _definitely _paperwork for the tour bus in there.

"I found my shield!" Steve exclaimed, hopping out of the school bus' emergency back door. "And there isn't a scratch on it!" His grin faded as Hill smacked another manila folder into his chest, another one spun to Bruce. "Agent Hill? What's this for?"

"For your unauthorized jump out of the aircraft, Rogers," she returned sharply. "How many times do I have to tell you not to jump out of an airplane without a parachute?" She turned to the group. "Alright, whoever didn't say five, pay up."

"Biih," May made an annoyed noise as she handed a twenty to Skye, who was gleefully pocketing her money. "I'm aiming for six next time."

"What can I say?" Skye grinned innocently as Bobbi grudgingly slapped her paycheck into Skye's hand. Hunter shifted around, pretending to look for his wallet, pulling it out when he received a glare from the rest of the team. "I'm good at these things."

"After all, it's not like he can say no to his girlfriend."

* * *

**A/N (11/21): I've decided to bring this long, random saga to an end. There's a lot of be said about where I've come from, and I've decided that I want to be more than just random events and everyone running around causing havoc. That being said, I hope that anyone reading this decides to come find me as an author, because there'll be a lot more to come! :)**


	55. New Year's, New Beginnings

**A/N: See below.**

* * *

"Director Coulson."

Coulson freezes as soon as he hears the voice, because it belongs to Wanda, and it usually means she has some sort of crazy idea that he'll _somehow _agree to (because there's really no way he can say no and she _is _an Avenger, after all.) because she makes it all seem rational. "Yes, Wanda?"

"I had a vision."

Now he's _really _screwed. "If this involves building _another _paintball arena, _no_, because Hunter still complains about the bruises he got from the last one." Coulson doesn't think he can go a day without the mercenary mentioning it at least once.

"It is about the festivities this evening," Wanda continues, and follows Coulson down the hallway as he heads to his office. "I had a vision that those meant to be would come together in a peculiar way."

"And what do those peculiar ways mean?" Coulson asks, finally turning around to face Wanda. "Is there going to be superglue involved? Because I've already seen that one." It'd been a fateful afternoon with May she _still _wouldn't let go of.

"No, there is no human force involved," Wanda laughs breezily, and Coulson breathes a sigh of relief. "What will occur will be completely by fate's magic."

"Fate's - absolutely not, Wanda. No magic. None." He'd already had enough of Skye, Joey and Lincoln running around being little shits about their powers, he was _not _about to let Wanda exercise free reign over his agents.

"But all it would take is a simple spell!" Wanda protests, looking up at Coulson through pleading eyes. "Besides, does it not make you curious to find out who is truly meant for you?" She had him there.

"How will we know who's...meant for us?"

"In the last seconds before the New Year, the spell will have you magically drawn through the maze to your beloved for the traditional New Year's kiss," Coulson doesn't see what's totally bad about that, and he's on the verge of agreeing - wait, did she say a _maze_?

"A maze?" he croaks out. Wanda waves a hand in dismissal.

"It is not of a big importance," she assures him. "The hallways of the base are as equally confusing. There is no need to build a new set of obstacles." Coulson relaxes a little at that - the image of a large grass hedge sprouting up in the base was _not _what he wanted to deal with in the first hours of 2016.

He regards Wanda, the latest in a series of 'adoptions' he'd made to his Bus team (it was Skye who'd taken her in, really, but she was still an adopted member nonetheless.), and sighs, hoping he won't regret this. "Alright. What else do we need to do?"

"Your agents should be in separate rooms come fifteen minutes before midnight," Wanda claps her hands in excitement, beginning to get into the details. "There will be blindfolds. By the first stroke of midnight, all should be united with their true love." She gives Coulson a pleading look. "Is this a deal, Director?"

"Fine," Coulson sighs. He's _really _hoping this will turn out well.

* * *

"I don't know, Spooky," Mack says dubiously when Wanda approaches him in the workshop later. "A spell being able to determine our true loves? I don't like the sound of that."

"But it isn't that, Mack," Wanda argues as she flits around the workshop with him. "It's allowing fate to tell you who your true love is. Think about it! Would you not want to know if the love of your life reciprocates your feelings?" She winks at him, and Mack knows exactly where she's striking at: his subtle-yet-quite-obvious pining for one metal-bending Inhuman.

It's cute, really: the entire team's seen the way he treats Joey, always asking him to fix things and accompany him in the garage. Everyone and their mother knows that the two of them are meant to be together. Now it's just a matter of making the two of them realize it.

"And if my 'true love' isn't on this base?" Mack asks gruffly, trying to hide his excitement at the fact that this could _finally _mean coming clean to Joey. "What happens then?"

"Then perhaps you aren't being completely honest with yourself, Alphonso Mackenzie," Wanda says gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Because we all know that your true love lies right here on this very base." She gives him a grin as she parts, leaving a dumbfounded Mack standing there with a lug wrench in his hands.

* * *

"Absolutely not!" Simmons exclaims some time later, as Wanda drops by the lab to persuade her. "Even though I do take stock in your powers, Wanda, this is a whole new realm of possibility that is, quite frankly, impossible." She hits START on some contraption that no one but she and Fitz really know the name about, turning to face her friend. "It's absolutely impossible that a _spell _can lead you to your true love. It only happens in fairy tales."

"If you believe it's a hoax, Jem, then why not do it?" Fitz challenges, coming up behind her with a tray of samples. "After all, what have you go to lose?"

"It's completely impossible, Fitz, because the statistics of one finding their true love, especially on the base, are -"

"Zero to none, and true love is really just a myth of -"

"- hormones and neurotransmitters firing between synapses, nothing emotional about it whatsoever -"

"-and eventually dopamine and serotonin run out and then you're really left with nothing -"

"Guys!" Wanda's smiling as FitzSimmons argues back and forth. "You're finishing each others' sentences again." They jump back, blushing madly. "I think you two should give it a try. For science's sake."

"Right," Simmons says firmly. "For science. And at the end of the night, nothing will change. Nothing."

"Of course not," Fitz squeaks. "Nothing will change at all. Why would it?" Wanda shakes her head.

"You two are in the rooms marked here and here," she says, handing them the maps she's handed out to Coulson and Mack. "And don't look!" she scolds as they try to sneak a peek at each others'. "_I _don't even know yet, so don't ruin it for the rest of us!"

"But what's the harm in looking?" Fitz asks incredulously. "It's all a fluke, anyways!" Wanda huffs a sigh at the two and sweeps out of the lab - she's got bigger fish to fry.

"Just don't ruin it!"

* * *

"True love," Bobbi states, looking down at the young enchantress. "You're saying this spell is going to tell me who my true love is." She looks doubtful - and has reason to, Wanda thinks. Bobbi Morse has seen too many failed relationships to count - and to have someone tell her that the one thing she's been looking for is right under her nose? Definitely too good to be true.

"Absolutely," Wanda affirms. "At the stroke of midnight, you will meet your true love in a predestined place, and exchange the traditional New Year's kiss." Bobbi just raises an eyebrow as Wanda hands her a blindfold and a map. "Be at this location at 11:45."

Bobbi presses her lips together in a tight line - she's got a faint inkling of who she'll be kissing at midnight, and judging by the way they always seem to fall back together, it'll just be another notch in their history. It won't mean anything different. She knows they're dysfunctional, but she wouldn't ask for anything else.

Still, she nods at Wanda, as if she's genuinely unsuspecting of who she's going to meet later that night. "It'll be fun, Wanda. Thanks." A true smile appears on her face. "I hope you find who you're looking for, too."

"Wanda's got a date?" Hunter demands, strolling in and grabbing a beer from the fridge. "Who is 'e?" Bobbi and Wanda roll their eyes in unison - they both know he means well, but it's an obnoxious move nonetheless.

"Whoever he may be, he'll be my true love," Wanda answers mysteriously, handing Hunter his own blindfold and map. He stares at it for a few moments, puzzled.

"Look, love, you're like a sister to me. We're not gettin' kinky or that sort of shite, are we?" Wanda looks properly horrified and Bobbi smacks Hunter upside the head, figuring he's gotten a jump start on the New Year's drinking.

"You're kissing your true love at midnight, so you'd better sober up," Bobbi warns him, already leaning past him to get a bottle of water from the fridge. "True love or not, no one likes the smell of beer breath."

Wanda's grinning to herself as she leaves the kitchen, Bobbi and Hunter's gentle bickering filling her ears. They may not be the fairy tale definition of true love, she muses to herself, but they love each other in a unique way. And maybe that's enough.

* * *

She finds Skye, Lincoln and Joey all fresh from a recent debrief, their heads together muttering about some technicality or other. There's a bright smile on her face as she enters the room, and she grins as their heads pull apart upon her entrance.

"Well, if it isn't Spooky," Lincoln says half-reverently, ruffling her head. Skye is next, drawing Wanda into a hug that she enthusiastically returns. Her childhood was alarmingly lacking in affection, a fact that the three of them had been horrified to learn and now took the chance to administer whenever they could. "What crackpot scheme have you come to convince us of this time?"

"It's _not _a crackpot scheme," she insists, planting her hands on her hips like a petulant child. (She can't help it - if there are three people Wanda wants to see fall in love the most, it's these three - they're like a family to her.) "It's a simple way for people to find out who they're really destined to be with."

She notices that Skye and Lincoln immediately look away from each other, and stows that fact away for later, when hopefully she's telling them 'I told you so'. "And if the person we truly love isn't on this base?" Joey asks.

That's funny, Wanda mentally tells him. Mack said the same thing. "I have a feeling," she answers simply, handing Joey his map and blindfold. "The blindfold is for prevention," she explains before he can make any insinuations. "Don't need you running into the wrong person and thinking they're the one."

Joey blanches, the thought of accidentally kissing someone like May or Skye crossing his mind.

"Got a hope in mind, Gutierrez?" Lincoln teases. "He wouldn't happen to be a member of this team, would he?" Skye roars with laughter as Joey turns red, refusing to look at any of them.

"Please, Campbell," Joey retorts, once his face reaches a reasonable shade. "Don't tell me you don't have your own hopes for this spell." Skye isn't laughing anymore, and Wanda raises an eyebrow at how she and Lincoln seem to lean unconsciously towards each other.

"What about you, Wanda?" Skye finally asks, breaking the tense silence. "Anyone you're hoping to kiss in this," she tries to find the right word for it, "magical arrangement?" Wanda falls silent and shrugs - the truth is, she didn't see anyone in her vision, nor did she imagine she'd end up finding anyone in the foreseeable future.

"There always did seem to be an odd number of people on this base," she answers lightly, making Skye frown. "But it is not my night - it is yours," she says, gesturing to the maps and blindfolds. "It is my gift to you...for being so gracious to me."

"Aw, Spooky," Lincoln cracks, and they're all drawing her in for a hug. Somehow, Wanda and Skye end up squished between Joey and Lincoln, and they end up hugging each other within the hug, making some sort of sandwich.

"You'll find the one someday," Skye reassures her, and maybe she's right, or maybe she's completely wrong, but it's not about Wanda tonight. It's about finding true love.

* * *

May proves to be the hardest of all.

Then again, it's probably why Wanda (unconsciously) saves her for last, choosing a moment when the woman seemed the least non-threatening and least likely to kill her - after she's finished letting off a few rounds in the range.

"You think that a _spell, _of all things, is going to show me who I'm in love with," If anything, May's more skeptical than Bobbi, and that somehow reassures Wanda that she's at least not going to be rejected outright.

"If you don't believe it, then you might as well go along with it. Because then it's just fun," she says lightly, looking the older agent in the eyes. She searches for some sign of relent, _some _signal that the lighter side of May is still in there somewhere. Because that's the side Coulson misses the most, she knows. He doesn't necessarily mind this new, tougher side of her - in fact, he's come to embrace it - but he misses the pre-Bahrain May. It's this version of May Wanda's looking for now - this side that had previously gone AWOL but was willing to return just for one night. "The Director said he'd go along with it."

That seems to be exactly the incentive May needs, for she slowly nods her head, reaching for the blindfold and map Wanda has in her hands. "And your personal bias...has not factored into this at all."

"No," Wanda says quietly. "The spell works with the accordances of Fate - whatever they decree it true. If they happen to line up with my bias...well, I'm not complaining."

"So everyone's due to find someone," May says quietly, looking at the map in her hand. "Everyone's true love is on this base?" It seems unlikely, Wanda knows, but she's seen more miraculous things happen, including the events of her own life.

"Agent May, give it a chance," she advises, placing a hand on May's arm. To her credit, May doesn't shrug her off. "You may just find what you're looking for to put you back together."

* * *

"It's 11:30," Wanda announces later that night, when they're all watching the New Year's Eve celebration, beers in their hands and their minds _far _from what they're about to encounter in half an hour. "I daresay you all should get into position."

There are several grumbles as people lurch off of the couch, off to find their separate rooms (and the love of their lives). Wanda watches them go with a sense of anticipation. Finally, everything is about to fall into place.

Simmons and Bobbi somehow end up with rooms next to each other, and they fall into step, Simmons having to take several steps in order to match one of Bobbi's strides. It's Simmons who finally breaks the silence, looking up at her friend curiously.

"Don't you know who you're kissing already?" she asks, her small voice echoing off of the walls of the compound. "I mean, after all, there's only one logical person on this base who you could _possibly _hold a relationship with, even though it's absolutely dysfunctional at times, so I don't really see the point of you going along with this little charade -" She's cut off by Bobbi grinning down at her.

"Then by all means, shouldn't you?" Simmons stops short, sputtering loudly. "If the whole thing is, as you say, a charade, then shouldn't you already know who you're going to kiss?"

"That's not - we're not - it's _different,_" she emphasizes. "I am not, was not, nor ever will be in a relationship with - with _Fitz_!" Although it isn't to say she hasn't entertained the notion several times during the early hours of the morning, when she's found him in the lab, sound asleep over a prototype of another. "We are certainly nothing like you and Hunter."

"I never said I was kissing Hunter tonight," Bobbi smirks, twisting her lips to hide her smile. "What sort of evidence says I'm kissing Hunter? For all you know, I could be kissing Mack."

"That's bloody ridiculous, and you know it," Simmons retorts, rolling her eyes. "Everyone and their _mother _knows that Mack has been pining for Joey ever since he got here. You, _Barbara,_" she teases, poking Bobbi's side, "are kissing Lance Hunter tonight. I'll pay you if you don't."

"It's Bobbi," Bobbi mutters under her breath, still grinning as they arrive in front of their rooms. "If you don't kiss Fitz, I'll be damned," she says, pulling the door open for her friend. "See you after midnight."

"Then get ready to go to hell!" Simmons shoots back as she steps in. "Because it _certainly _will not be happening!"

* * *

_11:44. _

Coulson glances nervously at his watch, sighing before slipping on his blindfold. Worst came to worst, there'd be an accidental kiss with Bobbi or Skye. In the best of situations -

He didn't want to let himself go there.

His watch beeps as 11:45 strikes, and for a moment, Coulson's convinced Wanda's set them all up, that they're all about to walk around the base with blindfolds on like fools. But then, there's a gentle tug in his mind to _open the door and step to the left, _and he's surprised when he automatically follows, stepping out into the corridor. To his right, he can hear Fitz (who he'd come down with) do the same thing.

They're silent as they part ways, Coulson to the left and Fitz to the right. His footsteps echo loudly as he walks along, his feet somehow automatically knowing where to go despite his never having made any conscious thought about them. _It must be the work of the spell, _his mind deduces as he turns left, nearly walking into a corner. _Well, no one said it was perfect. _

He's still just as confused when his ears pick up the humming of machines he hears every day on the way to his office, and puts his hands out, fingertips landing on the cool concrete of his doorway. Slowly, he steps into his office, tugging at his blindfold.

It won't come off.

"Wha -" he begins, about to yell for Wanda, when he hears the light tread of heeled combat boots some distance behind him. His blood freezes, because no _way _that can be who he thinks it is -

His blindfold suddenly vanishes, and he blinks, adjusting to the reintroduction of light into his retinas when he's confronted with the sight of May, who looks just as confounded as he does. Her eyes widen marginally as she registers who is in front of her, and she takes a step forward so that they're nearly touching.

May.

_Melinda _May. Melinda _Qiaolian_ May_._

His best friend since Academy days, the strongest, most capable fighter and SHIELD agent he'd ever met, who'd been permanently damaged by Bahrain, but was somehow still the same quiet, deadly girl he'd first met during their first days of weapons training.

Who, he reminds himself, married Andrew, a marriage he'd been perfectly happy to be present for and had blessed from the bottom of his heart. So how was she still here, in front of him, when he wasn't the right man?

"Andrew," he whispers, shaking his head.

"Audrey," she answers in the same hushed tone of voice. "You two were happy together. I wasn't about to get in the middle of that. And Andrew...well, he wanted me, so..."

Somewhere in the back of Coulson's mind, there's an internal clock counting down the seconds until the New Year, and a little blip alerts him to the fact that there's only 10 seconds left of 2015. He steps closer to May, holding his breath.

Their eyes meet, and as the New Year rings in, so do their lips, in a sweet, tender kiss that promises years to come.

* * *

_Get ready to go to hell, Barbara Morse, _Simmons promises grimly as 11:45 strikes. She lets out a surprised yelp as she unconsciously reaches for the door, tripping over her feet as they lead her down a seemingly predestined path.

Despite the loud mental protest she's putting up in her mind, her feet are having none of it, and she settles as the spell does all of the work, leading her up and around several hallways. A few times, she can almost _swear _she hears someone else - Coulson perhaps? - and hears a loud clang, accompanied by a few accented swears.

She chuckles. Of _course _it'd be Hunter who broke the silence.

Whether it's by mental routine or the spell, she'll never know, but somehow, Simmons winds up at a place _very _familiar to her - the lab. She pushes the door quietly with a _snick, _the familiar sounds of the equipment filling her ears. _There's only a minute left, _a voice in her brain tells her; she wants to reach for her blindfold, but another warring voice tells her not to. Something about it not coming off even if she tried.

Another voice bumbles into the lab, and her breath hitches, because _surely _that can't be who she thinks it is - all of their interactions were that of a platonic relationship, and her dopamine levels were normal when interacting with him, at best -

But then her mind conjures up image after image of fleeting touches, of softly-spoken reassurances, of an easy banter that she'd never had to put any effort into because it just felt _right_. She thinks back to all of her other failed relationships, of the dates that had gone horribly wrong because of her lack of filter, or their inability to understand a _word _she said, and how she'd always end up comparing what Fitz would've done differently had he been there -

_She was in love with Leopold Fitz. _

As soon as that fact crosses her mind, Simmons' blindfold vanishes, and she blinks a few times to dispel of any fuzzy spots. There, standing right in front of her, is Fitz himself, his eyes widening in shock and fear and an expression that could only be described as _no no no no no no no this cannot be happening - _

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," she whispers, bracing herself for the rejection, but even more, the relief that Wanda's experiment had failed miserably and not having to pay Bobbi. Fitz's eyes widen again in a completely different way, and she barely registers the fact that it's the first stroke of midnight as he scrambles towards her for a kiss, one that immediately has Simmons clutching his shoulders for support.

They break apart, both still completely gobsmacked at what had just occurred. Neither of them want to be the first to break the sacred silence, for one of them to say it was all a mistake and that Wanda had obviously failed in her scheme.

Fitz speaks first. "Tha' wasn't so bad," he says, and she feels a flare of indignation rise up in her; in her opinion she'd done quite well, really - "Maybe we can practice some more?"

The implication of what he's trying to say sink in, and she cups his cheek reverently. "Oh, Fitz," she sighs, pulling him for another kiss. There's nothing hurried about this one, and it's slow, communicating everything she couldn't find the words to say. When he pulls back, she whispers, "I think we can practice for the rest of our lives, don't you think?"

* * *

The burst of cold air is the first thing Bobbi registers that tells her that she's stepped off-base, and she shivers. Maybe Mack and Joey were right, maybe there _was _a true love that wasn't on the base. The thought of being a true love to someone she hadn't met yet saddens her a little. Despite the violent relationship they seemed to always have going on, she really thought she'd found the one in Hunter.

He was the only one that put up with her emotional bullshit, honestly. No matter whether it was for something petty of major, he was always there, ready to hold her until she was ready to function again. And that was what she missed most about their recent separation, Bobbi thinks bitterly. There'd been no one to hold her as she'd crashed against the door, letting her stoic image fall as she sobbed her eyes out.

Her eyebrows fly up as her feet guide her into the hangar, stopping gently. Bobbi puts her hands out, expecting to feel the person she was supposedly meant to be with the rest of her life (honestly, she'd end up going back to Hunter, with the way she fucked up relationships), but frowns as her hands encounter metal.

The exterior of an SUV, as a matter of fact.

All at once, everything falls into place, and she bursts into laughter, both relieved and apprehensive at once. Did this mean that they were only meant to be together physically? Bobbi's shoulder slump a little. She supposes that as long as Hunter was in her life, at least marginally, she'd be able to live.

"It's the bloody SUV," she hears, and she turns, her blindfold vanishing at once. Indeed, Hunter is standing there, looking between Bobbi and the van like he can't believe either is there. "I'm meant to be together with a bloody SUV." He looks miffed. "At the very least, I could've gotten Lola,"

Bobbi laughs gently. "Lola's meant to be with either Mack or Coulson, and you know it," He huffs a sigh of annoyance. "If it helps, I got destined to be with a car, too," Without thinking, she knows that there are exactly two minutes to midnight, and she steps forward. "Hunter -"

"I love you, Bob," he blurts out, and Bobbi stops for a second, slightly taken aback. "I always have, and I've never stopped." He looks away at the last part, mildly ashamed of himself. Because she'd obviously stopped loving him at some point after their divorce, otherwise they _wouldn't _have gotten divorced in the first place...

Something tells Bobbi to be silent for the remainder of 2015, to allow the statement to sink into both of them. She waits until the mental countdown in her head has reached ten seconds before she reaches for him, tipping his chin up with a finger, whispering, "Neither have I," and kissing him.

The year passes before they break apart, and Bobbi's eyes are bright, her face begging for a new start. "New year, new us?" she asks hopefully, pressing her lips together to hold in any sort of emotion. She's not about to get her hopes up, despite how true Wanda's predictions had been earlier.

"Yeah," he says half-succinctly, and Bobbi lets out a quiet laugh. "You want to do this again, love?"

* * *

The metallic tang of tools fills Joey's nose, and he wrinkles it out of habit as he's realized he's stepped into the garage. To his right, he hears Hunter's heavy footsteps - they'd come down together, much to their surprise (and horror, right up until Joey had quickly reassured Hunter that he wasn't his type; Hunter had been quick to declare his undying love for Bobbi, which made the young Inhuman smile.) and had decided to continue together.

He can hear Hunter complaining about being stuck with an SUV for the rest of life, followed by a voice he presumes is Bobbi's - he hasn't known her long enough to tell - and maybe quickens his pace a little when he hears their faces go silent. New as he may be, he's heard enough stories from Skye to know that a silent Huntingbird (as it's so lovingly dubbed,) is never a good thing.

His feet lead him further into the garage, and his ears perk up when he hears the clankle of tools, meaning someone had been clumsy enough to walk into one of the many tables set up. It makes Joey smile, remembering the one afternoon Skye and Lincoln had taken it upon themselves to tie a blindfold on Mack in one of their rare feats of pranking over the tall man, making him bumble through the garage for half an hour before Joey had shown up, gently untying it from around his head.

It's like Joey doesn't even have a blindfold on as he wanders expertly through the garage, despite having tripped over everything at least once when he had his sight. Wood shavings mix with metal as he stops in front of what's supposedly the in-table wood saw. His breath stops as he realizes this, knowing that the last time he'd used the wood saw it'd been to make a weapon...

"_Here," Joey shoves the wrapped package at Mack without even looking, not wanting to read the other man's face when he opened the gift. It was surely stupid, something based off of one comment Mack had made once on an op - 'I need a shotgun ax' - but it'd inspired him all the same. _

"_Oh my God. Is this what I think it is?" Joey's still facing away from Mack, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He shouldn't have done it, he knows he shouldn't have done it - "Irons, did you make me a shotgun axe?" _

"_Yeah," Joey shrugs, trying to play it off like it's no big deal, he goes around making weapons for his teammates all the time. As if it's a casual gift that doesn't really mean anything. "I...I heard you say that you wanted one once, and I just thought you'd like it." _

"_This is singularly the coolest thing anyone's done for me," Mack marvels, running his hand over the polished wooden handle. "And that includes when Coulson let me work on Lola. Seriously, man," he says cheerfully, clapping Joey on the shoulder. "Thanks, man. It means a lot." _

"_Sure," Joey nods, thankful his feelings aren't showing their true selves. "Anytime, man."_

"Damn, that was one cool shotgun ax," Joey hears Mack's voice say, and he jumps, realizing the blindfold upon his face has vanished. Mack turns to smile at him. "It's still the coolest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"Yeah, well -" Just like last time, Joey can't help his stutter, and it's a miracle he doesn't stop speaking entirely. "'S nothing, really," he settles for muttering at last, because he knows it's all he'll be able to get out. He scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Well, I don't think Lola's down here...and I'm pretty sure she's your destined love..."

"Cars can't give good hugs," Mack shrugs. "Cars don't eagerly learn about automobile parts. They're not here to help me when I get frustrated. Nor can they fix my tools. 'N fact, I'm pretty sure they're what's causing my problems in the first place."

Instinctively, Joey finds himself moving in for a hug, as he's prone to do whenever he's around Mack and the older man voices his frustrations. His arms wrap around Mack's torso before he can register what he's doing, and when he moves to uncircle his arms, he's pleasantly surprised when Mack grabs the hands that are linked around his waist, holding them.

"'Course, if you're a car, then that explains everything..." Mack rumbles, and Joey can feel Mack's eyes on his face, tracing over his features. "Although that doesn't really explain why I want to kiss you right about now."

"I wouldn't mind," Joey blurts out, then mentally smacks himself in the head. "I mean - if you wanted to, that was - I can _totally _understand if there's a tool in the room that takes preference -"

But he's cut off again as Mack bends slightly to meet his lips, and Joey stands on his tiptoes a little bit so that he doesn't develop a crick in his neck. It's everything he's ever thought it'd be, and as his arms slide up to wrap around Mack's neck, trying to get leverage, Mack _lifts _him by his torso just a little bit so that they're equal, and it feels like he's flying.

If he got kisses like this all the time, he'd make shotgun axes night and day.

* * *

Skye hasn't moved from her room.

She _knows _it's selfish for whomever she's meant to be with that she's hiding here, waiting for her to step out to wherever Wanda had predestined them to be...but she couldn't do it.

Not again.

She's damaged goods, an off-cast that no one wants...and everything she touches she manages to fuck up. Majorly. She's seen it in the string of her past relationships, with Miles, with Ward...it's a miracle she hasn't fucked up what she has with Lincoln.

The thought of stepping out and meeting him _terrifies _Skye. Lincoln was everything she's ever hoped to be - too pure, too good, too _kind _and completely undeserving of someone like her. So really, it was better that she stay in the room. Hide away from her emotions and her fate. And then, after midnight passed, she could step out and smile for everyone else that'd gotten together. For FitzSimmons. For Bobbi and Hunter. Mack and Joey. (She hopes somehow May and Coulson have finally gotten together, too. It's about time.)

The door _clicks _and Skye freezes, squeezing her eyes shut so as to not be faced with whomever has accidentally stepped into the room. "I think you've stepped into the wrong room," she says out loud, hoping to ward them off. "If you're looking for Joey, he went down to the garage a long time ago."

"I _hope _I'm not in the wrong room, because then it'd really be awkward." Skye's eyes fly open. Lincoln.

He's standing above her with a concerned expression on his face, a small ball of electricity floating in his hand. "There's a light switch, you know that, right, Pikachu?" she jokes, and somehow, it breaks the tension. Lincoln slides down against the wall next to her, laughing quietly.

"Yeah, but it wouldn't be the same if I kissed you in artificial light." Skye shakes her head; she's not about to get kissed and fuck up what they've already got, and she says so.

"I'm sure there's _some _other girl out there who's perfect for you, and probably has a medical degree, graduated high school, and _doesn't _manage to fuck up everything she touches -"

"But I don't want any of those girls," Lincoln says softly, tipping her chin up in his hand. "I want the quirky, sarcastic teammate who drew me into the fold when I had nowhere to go. I want the girl who's a fabulous best friend to Jemma Simmons, even though she can't understand half of what she's saying. I want the team leader that tries to keep the world on her shoulders, but is smart enough to know when she can't. Oh, and apparently she's got kickass earthbending powers?" he asks, eliciting a giggle from Skye.

"They're not earthbending powers, I just manipulate the vibrations of the..." She falls silent as he's looking intently at her, his lips slightly parted. Something in the back of her mind tells her to move in to close the gap between them, and she does, faintly registering that time has moved from 2015 to 2016.

They pull apart, and Lincoln looks profoundly surprised, even touching a hand to his mouth in reverence. A mounting wave of insecurity suddenly washes over Skye, and she shrinks back, already trying to rationalize this one away. "I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - I didn't want to - that is, if _you _didn't want to -"

"Skye," The one word shuts her up, and she waits, wanting to hear what he has to say. "I meant to. I wanted to. And I'm _definitely _not sorry."

"I'm a walking disaster, Lincoln," Skye tries to warn him. "The last two relationships I was in didn't end up so well."

Lincoln grins. "Well, then it's a good thing I'm not a human guy, isn't it?"

* * *

When Wanda sees all four couples at breakfast the next morning, a grin breaks out on her face, and she barely resists doing a happy dance to celebrate. (Barely. Her feet start to move, but one look from Hunter and all movement stops.)

"I see last night was...eventful," she begins innocently.

"You didn't plan any of this?" May asks tartly as she pours herself a cup of coffee. "None of this was according to your opinions?"

"My answer remains the same as yesterday, Agent May," Wanda replies. "Whatever occurred was the result of the Fates, and none of my own doing. I take it you were satisfied with whomever you found?"

Coulson and May exchange a look. "It...it was a long time coming, but yes," Coulson says, earning several 'yes!'es and money being exchanged. Hunter has an especially smug look on his face when Simmons has to hand over the last bag of Earl Grey tea.

She sighs. "Laugh it up, Barbara. You're out of hell...for today,"

"Oh, please," Bobbi snorts, winking. "We both know I'm already a hell-beast." The entire team groans, knowing that the chances of walking in on the both of them has just increased exponentially.

To the right of her, Skye struggles to reach for the cereal on the top shelf, and Wanda watches in amusement as Lincoln simply leans over to grab it for her, pressing a quick kiss to her head before handing her the box.

Her last glance is at Mack and Joey, who are already seated at the breakfast bar, whispering to each other. She hides a smile. _Glad to see they got past the awkward stage, _she thinks. Everyone's found love, and in the person they treasured the most.

New Year's was truly magical.

* * *

**Hello to everyone that came back!**

**I regret to say that _this _is the end; really, it is, but there's more of Callie and Nicky's origin story to be read, which is going on now over at 'BioChem - The Origin Story (pt 1)'! If you wanted to hop on that and come along on the journey, it would be greatly appreciated! And if not...farewell, and thanks for reading! **

**If you could leave a review...for the last time's sake :)**


	56. Debates With Skye

"Kids, we need to talk."

The echo of their father's voice through the vents made Callie and Nicky both look up from their respective phones, panic written on their faces. The latter began to frantically look for places that he could escape, while the former panicked about what could've brought this talk on. "You didn't bring a guy home, did you?" Nicky asked, rattling the vent covers. No such luck.

"I'm so insulted you'd think I'd do that," Callie scoffed, watching her brother continue to try the various vent covers around his room. "First of all, if I brought a guy home, Mom would give him the third degree on sight, which would scare the shit out of him -"

"_Language!"_

"Oh, come on, even Uncle Steve's learned how to use the vents?" Callie sighed, flopping back on the bed. "Second of all, if I brought a guy home, it would've required me to have left the Tower at _least _three times in the last week." She winced, pressing a hand to her side. "Which would've happened had Aunt Skye not beat the sh -" Nicky turned, raising an eyebrow at her. "-the _crap _out of me."

"We're doomed," Nicky flopped next to her, chagrin on his face. "There's no way out. I bet Dad even locked the door."

"Technically, it was JARVIS who did it, but the point still stands," Clint said as he entered the room nonchalantly, taking a seat on the bed at his kids' feet. "Callie, Nicky, congrats on not breaking the window and escaping that way. Although should you ever have to face down a room full of enemies, consider it."

"It was Nicky!" Callie blurted out, pointing frantically at her brother. "He met this German exchange student in Greenwich last week, and they've been going out to lunch for the last month!" Both men turned to look at her, and she cradled her phone closely to her chest. "Sorry, Nicky. I like my phone. It's fun to subtweet Hunter whenever he says something stupid."

"_Wow_, Cals, thanks," Nicky scoffed in disbelief, then flinched when he saw Clint's impassive face. "Okay, but it's nothing serious! She offered to help teach me German in exchange for a tour guide around the city!"

"'Tour guide around the city.'" Callie deadpanned her finger quotes. "More like, 'tour guide around the local Duane Reade for supplies'." When Nicky's glare grew, she put her hands up. "Okay, Dad, no, not really. They didn't meet in Greenwich. Uncle Tony hired her last month, and we all know how _his _foreign language skills are."

"And he asked Nicky to do it?" Clint was pointedly not looking at his son, and he wasn't sure if that meant he was about to get subjected to the Spanish Inquisition or walk away unscathed. Maybe a little bit of both.

Callie shrugged, already occupying herself with her phone once more. "You know Nicky's one of the smartest engineers around. Apparently, none of the engineers in his department are good with foreign languages. Or, as Uncle Tony says, 'Speaking. At all'."

Clint sighed, making a mental note to once again have a word with Tony on the types of people he let Nicky near. "While that was good to hear, Callie, that's not what I'm here for."

"What?!" Nicky exclaimed. "She just sold me out for nothing?"

"Not for nothing," Callie smirked. "I'm sure Mom'll have Uncle Tony pinned to a wall with knives by tonight while Aunt Pepper just watches with wine from the couch." She finally looked up from her phone, stowing it away. "What did you want to talk to us about?"

Clint cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, since you two are eighteen, it's prime time that this conversation came up. You're both consenting adults, and with that comes a whole new set of responsibilities that you need to be informed about."

"Oh my god, Dad!" Callie was already halfway to the door. "I can't believe you were going to have the _sex talk _with Nicky while I was in the room!" She covered her eyes, trying to scrub the image from her mind. For his part, Nicky looked equally horrified, his phone dangling loosely from his hand. "Just because we're fraternal twins doesn't mean we do _everything _together!"

Clint stared at her for a minute before he burst into hysterical laughter, clutching his stomach as he tried not to fall off of the bed. Both teenagers stared at him as he failed to keep his balance and hit the floor, still cackling.

"You thought - you thought - oh my god, I can't believe it." Clint gripped the bed, still shaking, and tried to hoist himself up. "You thought I was giving you the _sex talk_?!"

"Well, yeah, duh," Callie stared in disbelief. "We're eighteen, we have responsibilities...was that _not _the sex talk?"

"First of all -" Clint held up a finger. "There's no way in he..." He looked at the vents. "Vahalla I would give you the sex talk. That one's for your mother. We made that pact when she got pregnant." He still couldn't quite get over the fact that Callie thought he'd tried to give her the _sex _talk. "Second of all, there are other responsibilities you have to uphold when you're eighteen."

"I promise not to drink and drive, smoke, or roofie underage girls," Nicky said in a monotone voice. "Anything else?"

"The fact that you thought of that first is alarming," Clint said, the color from his face fading slightly, "and you're going to have a talk with your Uncle Tony about that. Maybe with your Uncle Lance in attendance. But no. I'm here to talk to you two about voting."

"Voting?"

"Yeah. We live in a democracy, remember? It may not seem like it with Aunt Skye running around - that's anarchy, kids - but we do, as well as you, have the power to choose who's going to represent this country for the next four years." At that, Clint's face grew serious. "I know you two have both been watching the news, and I'm going to put it bluntly: this country has the serious potential to go to shit."

"I feel like Uncle Steve should be giving this lecture," Nicky whispered to Callie.

"It's about time you learned that you _do _have the power to change the future of your country, simply by filling in a little bubble on a piece of paper." Clint clapped his hands. "Which is why I want the both of you to register to vote."

Both twins stared at him. "That's it?" Callie asked, still suspicious. "You want us to register and vote? There's no catch to it?"

"That's it." Clint shrugged. "I know it might feel like a dangerous step into adulthood - voting isn't a decision we can make for you anymore - but it's one of the more harmless steps, and there'll be things a lot scarier than that." He snorted. "You should've seen the first time Aunt Skye tried to do her taxes."

"It wasn't any less entertaining than when he got a letter from the IRS and freaked out," Skye retorted as she walked in. "Hello, kiddos. I am the _cool _aunt, and therefore, I'm going to take you two to register. And then maybe the bar, since you're adults."

"Skye," Clint groaned. "They're 18, not 21. You are _not _drinking my son under the table."

Skye shrugged. "The more tolerance he gets, the better. You obviously haven't been to a frat party in a while." She turned to Callie and Nicky, who both looked mystified and somewhat confused. "Get dressed. We leave in ten."

"Change in plans!" Bobbi poked her head out from the vent above Nicky's head, causing him to shriek and fall off of the bed. "Apparently there's a bunch of European goons in this tower who aren't registered yet, so they'll be taking Cals and Nickles to go register." She looked down at Nicky. "Eighteen years of jump scares and you're still not used to this? Lame."

"Thanks, Aunt Bobbi."

* * *

The trick about the registration building hadn't been that it was hard to find. It hadn't been that they'd lost FitzSimmons on the way there (although that _had _almost happened once, when they'd been sidetracked by a churro truck). It hadn't even been that they were basically staring down one of the biggest responsibilities as an American citizen.

No, it'd been the fact that there'd been a Chipotle right next to the registration building, and the twins had proved somewhat of a challenge to keep in line.

"Come on, pleeeeeeeeeeease?" Callie begged Hunter, trying to drag him away from the tedium of politics to the temptation of sofritas and extra guacamole. "I promise we can register to vote after! I really want Chipotle, Uncle Lance! Pleeeeease?"

"Cals, as much as I would love to go next door and have overpriced Mexican food," Hunter answered exasperatedly, "Bob'll have my arse if I come back without having you all registered. And that goes for you lot, too," he called over to FitzSimmons, who had also been trying to sneak over to Chipotle. "Sneak off and I'll take away your lab fobs." FitzSimmons sighed in unison before turning around and marching back to the building.

"Come on, Cals," Fitz called. "_I'll _take you for Chipotle if we register. Hunter's a bloody arse." The four of them locked arms and walked in, leaving Hunter to jog behind them like a lunatic.

"See?" Simmons asked when they were handed the forms. Her tone was a little too cheery, the only sign that she was just as scared as they were. "All we have to do is fill out this piece of paper. It's not so bad. Fitz and I saw _much _worse when we were at the Academy."

"You might have," Nicky said as he flipped the first page open, scanning the columns. "Social Security number?!" he hissed to Callie and Hunter. "I don't even _know _my Social Security number!" He pushed the forms back. "That's it. I can't. I'm not filling out the forms."

Callie sighed and slid him a piece of paper. "Here's your Social Security number, your address and your date of birth." When Nicky gave her a deadpan look, she shrugged. "I had to cover all of the bases. Just in case you somehow forgot."

"There we go," Fitz signed his name with a flourish, sliding the papers over to the registration official. "All done, all registered." He turned to Simmons, who was holding the papers up to her face in an attempt to read the fine print. "Jemma. It's registering to vote, _not _the bloody Academy contract. Just sign it and go."

"Oh, _hush_, Fitz, I'm just checking!" The mortification was still present on Simmons' face, however, as she clicked her pen shut and slid the papers through the cracks. "Callie, Nicky, are you two done?"

"As done as I can ever be," Callie said doubtfully, sliding her papers over. "Wow, I'm registered to vote before I can drive." She turned to Hunter, who was just signing his papers. "How long do you think before Mom lets me drive?"

"Honest truth, love?" Hunter asked, clicking his pen. "You'll be flying circles around May before your mum lets you drive. I've seen her on the road. It's not pretty." He turned to FitzSimmons, who were watching him with identical puppy dog faces. "Alright, you two. Let's go stuff some sofritas into you before one of you perishes with hunger."

* * *

**September 26th**

"When I registered to vote, I didn't think it meant I'd have to be an _actual informed citizen,_" Callie groaned as all of them settled into one of Tony's infinite couches. "Besides, the debates are so long. Can't I just watch the Buzzfeed version later?"

"Your system of governing is quite mysterious, Lady Catalina," Thor said to her as he sat down, nearly upending the couch due to the inbalance. "I do not understand why one has to be a certain age to be able to run for this position."

"Well, maybe if you ran for president one day, you could - hey, wait!" Callie turned to the rest of the Bus team in mock outrage. "How come Thor didn't come register with us?"

Coulson gave her a deadpan look. "Have you ever tried taking an Asgardian to do _anything_?"

"Alright, ladies, gents, and young whippersnappers, are you ready for the one, the only, DEBATES WITH SKYE?" Skye ran in, flanked by Hunter and Clint. Each of them were holding a bottle of alcohol in each hand, and Natasha trailed behind, a box of shot glasses in her arms. All were distributed, seats were taken, and Tony turned on the TV.

"What are the rules?" Bobbi asked offhandedly, pouring herself a shot. She'd been drinking during debates since she'd been old enough to vote, and every election year, she needed more alcohol. This year's drama was bad enough that it called for pre-shots.

"Drink every time Trump says something offensive?" Simmons suggested. Hunter filled her glass to the rim, shrugging when she frowned at him. "Or every time the moderator can't get a word in edgewise?"

Natasha snorted. "If we did that, we'd all have alcohol poisoning within the thirty minutes." She threw back a shot, curling her fingers at Hunter to refill her glass. "Take a shot every time Skye says something that's actually relevant to the stupid thing that preceded it."

"Which is every time," Skye pointed out, confused. "Wouldn't you just give yourself alcohol poisoning either way?"

"I should hope not," Steve muttered. "If you're as smart as Trump is, I think your powers were a fluke." Tony snorted into his drink.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

* * *

"_The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make US manufacturing non-competitive,"_

"EVERYBODY DRINK!" Simmons shouted gaily, raising her glass in the air. Beside her, Fitz watched with a look that was half worried, half amused. So far, she'd drunk the most out of everyone (including Bobbi, who was looking disgruntled at having lost her title) and was currently on her feet, trying to make the toast.

"_I never said that." _

Skye scoffed from where she was nursing her beer. She couldn't make accurate remarks unless she was sober. Which was regrettable, as it didn't excuse her when she threw things at the TV, but... "You _do _say that."

"Interruption!" Hunter pointed his bottle at the TV. "Crunches or shots, go!" As soon as he said it, the TV exploded into noise as both candidates tried to gain the upper hand, forcing every one of them into action.

"I CAN'T!" Clint yelled as he doubled over after another crunch. "Just take me now, Odin," he panted, clutching at his side. "I'd rather go to Asgard than live on this shitty planet where there's a chance that orange is becoming president! Take me now!"

Natasha regarded him with amusement. "Clint, you know we can just move to another country, right?" But he was too busy gasping still to reply, so she just shrugged and kept counting the interruptions.

"Poor Lester," Skye wheezed, forcing herself into another push-up. "And my poor arms!" was all she got out before collapsing with a _thump _onto the floor. May gave her a deadpan look from where she was still sitting on the couch, sipping at her drink.

"I'm starting to think you're not very good at this whole 'snark the election' thing."

* * *

"This is a really long SNL open. It's getting old."

"No," Coulson said loudly as NIcky took advantage of everyone's stunned silence to try and lift a shot glass out of the box next to Natasha's feet. Startled, he dropped the glass, letting it _clink _back amongst its friends. Hunter shot him a dirty look that was either reprimanding him for trying to drink underage or for having been caught - he couldn't tell.

Across the room, Callie smirked and wiggled her own shot glass at him. "Put it down," Bobbi didn't even turn her gaze from the TV as she said it, but Callie was chagrined all the same when she returned the glass to the box.

"But Aunt Bobbi!" This time, Bobbi _did _turn her gaze to her, an eyebrow raised. "You were drinking at eighteen!"

"Yeah, and look what she became," Hunter groused. Simmons smacked him in the back of the head.

"With the amount of brain cells _you _have, I'd wager you started drinking when you were small."

* * *

"_I'm due to release my tax returns, but I'm under audit. That makes me smart, and not stupid. I'm very good at what I do, and I'll make sure the American people get their money back from Mexico, and our jobs back from Mexico, and our illegal aliens back on the other side of the wall."_

That one stunned them all. "I..." Mack looked wildly towards Elena, who had seized a bottle of gin and was chugging it down wholeheartedly. On her other side, Joey was doing the same, except with two beer necks stuck into his mouth together. "Fuck it." He grabbed his own bottle following their example.

"I can't even..." Skye struggled to form a sentence as she tried to comprehend just _where _that sentence had started and ended. "Okay? Okay. You're under audit, which will get illegal aliens on the other side of a wall that you're gonna make the _Mexicans _pay for?" She turned towards Elena. "If I get you close enough, can you kill him?"

* * *

"_Hillary! Is the reason that ISIS is still there. She and Obama, with all of their time together, could've prevented ISIS from forming, but thanks to their inexperience, ISIS is still going strong! In fact, they're the reason it started! It was a very, very, __**very **__bad decision that shows what Hillary's like in office. Do you want a woman with that stamina for President? I know I wouldn't! Crooked Hillary deserves to be put in jail with that stamina. Very bad. Just. Very bad." _

"Reminds me of when I was in middle school," Skye snorted. "I had to write those stupid essays about holiday traditions and families and I never met the word count for any of them." She pulled a face, setting down her beer. "SHE IS VERY VERY CROOKED NOT HONEST VERY CROOKED. STUPID." Simmons burst into laughter, obviously way past her drunken limit. The rest of them just stared at her. "Oh, come on. I'm not funny?"

"I'm _dying _of laughter," Tony reassured her with a deadpan. "This election's just taken all of the humor out of me." He threw back another shot as the debate continued, muttering to himself. "Idiot wouldn't know the difference between a raccoon and a mink coat even if it was lit up in neon right next to him."

"_Chicago, where there's been so much inter-city violence, is a perfect example of how we should be training our law enforcement officers. Chicago, whose murder rates have plummeted in the last century, could really serve as a great example of our stop and frisk program!" _

"So, like, did he make a bet with some spray tan company that if he mentioned the word 'Chicago' enough times, he'd get free tans for life?" Skye asked, swapping beer bottles for the first time that night. "Because aside from the words 'crooked' and 'Hillary', that's literally the word he's said the most all night."

"Not true," Nicky told her, looking up from his computer. "The word he's said the most is 'I'." She snorted and faked throwing her empty bottle at him. "That'd be an upgrade, at least I could try and get a couple of drops out of it!"

"_What _is your obsession with drinking?" Clint asked, turning around to his son. "It's _literally _nothing big! You can very well wait three goddamn years to drink, Nikolai, and if you keep trying, I'll make it so you won't drink until you're thirty."

He was met with a stunned silence. "Wow, Dad Barton really layin' down the law," Bobbi quipped, reaching for some Chardonnay. "Well, it could be worse. He could be a sugar daddy." _That _was met with a horrified squawk from Clint and Natasha snatching her alcohol from her. "Hey! I need that to get through the debate!"

"Simmons, do you have anything that can sedate Morse for the course of the election and leave her alive?" Natasha deadpanned. "And do you have a lot? I think it's the only way to make it through." Their attention was drawn to the applause suddenly filling the speakers, all of them letting out sighs of relief when both candidates stood and went to shake hands with the moderator.

"I...I don't know what that debate was," Skye said as she tipped back the rest of her beer. "All I know is after this is that I love lamp."

Fitz stared at her. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"_I know_."

* * *

**October 7**

"_I go in there and I grab them by the -_"

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" With a quick nod to each other, FitzSimmons slapped their hands over Callie and Nicky's ears in complete unison, ignoring both kids' protests. Both of them winced as the rest of the quote rolled through, only removing themselves when the news story changed to the Hulk rampaging through Harlem.

"Aw, come on, guys! We're not little anymore!" Nicky whined. "We can handle people saying things like that! I hear it on the streets all the time!"

"Yeah!" Callie echoed. "I beat the shit out of people for saying it to me on the streets all the time!" Simmons raised an eyebrow. "Mom always turns around! Or at least pretends not to see it! I'm perfectly fine!"

"It isn't that, what concerns me is that men _say _that to you, Callie," Simmons' forehead creased with worry. "We don't need any of your catcallers reaching stalker status. Especially with the state of today's society. Perhaps I can speak with Agent Romanoff about upgrading your detail?"

"Any more detail and it'd be worse than the damn Secret Service," Natasha chuckled, catching the last of the conversation as she strode in. "I assume we're talking about what the asshole Cheeto said."

"So _that's _why there was a photoshopped photo of a flaming orange on a Cheeto," Fitz said in wonder. "I always wondered why they chose a Cheeto, anyways. It's a perfectly good snack that shouldn't be defaced by an orange -"

"Fitz, it's a _junk food, _by definition it's bad for you, I thought I got rid of all of the bags you had -!"

"So that was _you_, huh, Jemma? Always figured Skye for a thief, but never you!" Fitz looked on the verge of tears. "You know how badly I loved those Cheetos!"

"Tea! Crumpet!" Callie clapped her hands to get their attention. "Chill. They're just. Cheetos. Uncle Fitz, we'll get you more. Aunt Jemma, you don't get to take them this time, okay?" Simmons heaved a large sigh. "But _no _flaming ones. Uncle Tony had them once and he didn't move off of the toilet for three hours."

FitzSimmons both sighed in unison and stalked off in different directions.

* * *

**October 9**

The mood in the living room that night was decidedly more dejected that night as they filed in, everyone's drinks in hand. Bobbi was ready with two bottles, twirling them as she did her staves. Callie sat next to her, a hopeful look on her face as the older blonde uncorked the first bottle, bringing it to her mouth in a salute to that night's debate.

"No," Bobbi said after her first swig. "I'm not going to be responsible for corrupting you." She gave Callie a small smile, handing her the second bottle. "Although I did bring you a bottle of sparkling cider." She almost spit out her wine as Callie hugged her tightly, uncorking the cider and pretending to chug it just as she had.

"_That was just locker room talk, you know_. _Nothing serious, happens all the time." _

"That's not fucking locker room talk, you piece of shit!" Clint burst out at the TV, waving a fist. Tony had to duck to avoid a piece of popcorn being thrown at the oversized screen. "I grew up in a circus! That's not what we say backstage!"

"Is this real life?" Skye wondered to no one, cracking open her second beer despite the debate having started only a short time ago. "Is this just fantasy?"

"Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality," Nicky answered, popping a Hot Pocket into his mouth. Bruce looked on disapprovingly. "Guys, look, it's a Cheeto!"

"And a fly," Skye commented. "Someone kill the fly, please?" When the fly showed no sign of death anytime soon, she sighed. "Well, that proves my hypothesis that Trump's a bag of shit."

* * *

"_My microphone had accidentally picked up those words. They were not meant to be released to the general public, and should be disregarded,_"

"Trump is an actual baby," Skye said flatly, draining an entire bottle of beer. "A grown, leathery Cheeto baby." She popped a Cheeto into her mouth, crunching down on it in satisfaction. "Something tells me his parents are regretting getting it on right about now."

Tony snorted. "Sure was a hole in that condom." Next to him, Steve winced.

"_Language_._"_

* * *

"Hey, Uncle Bucky?" Callie asked a few minutes later, upon hearing about the increased usage of stop and frisk. "If Trump wins, can I borrow your cryofreeze unit?" Bucky snorted from where he'd been leaning against Steve on the couch.

"Cals, if he wins, you'll have to fight me to get back in the unit. I guarantee you you'll probably also have to fight your mother, too." Callie groaned. Why would she have to suffer through four years while Natasha got to freeze it away?

"INTERRUPTION!" Nicky all but screamed. Clint groaned as he started his round of pushups, collapsing on the floor by the time he made it to ten. Thor looked at him in concern, sipping at his mead.

"Are you well, Friend Barton?"

"Next time, remind me to drink," Clint groaned, pointing an accusing finger at Nicky. "This is all your fault."

* * *

Natasha frowned. "Am I imagining that, or am I hearing little puffs of air when he walks?"

"Nah," Skye said. "Trump's literally walking around his chair and farting in a circle." They watched as he stood behind his chair, occasionally rocking back and forth. "And he likes fucking chairs, too!" She sighed heavily. "What sort of man that refers to himself in the third person - _twice _\- makes it this far in the presidential process?" She held out her hand, Fitz slapping her laptop into it. "I'm going look for the best places to live in Canada."

"_She's got bad judgement, and honestly so bad." _

"Sounds like Hill when she's driving," Tony muttered under his breath, lurching forward as Natasha whacked him in the shoulder. "Ow! Natashalie!"

"You've never driven a day in your life, Stark, I wouldn't trust you to have better judgement than _Callie _when she drives."

"I can't drive yet, Mom!" Callie threw her hands up in defense. "I should've learned to drive _before _I learned to vote! I don't even have my permit! Why is it I can fly, but I can't drive a car like millions of other citizens in this country?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Cals. Don't tell me you haven't been taken out to drive." Callie rolled her eyes right back - everyone had been too scared to take her, despite her pleading attempts. "No one? No one at all?"

* * *

"_Inner cities, like Chicago, have done so much good in implementing the increased Stop 'n Frisk programs. Violence has been brought down in the inner cities, minorities have been helped so much in the inner cities..."_

"Can you say racism?" Skye asked bitterly, holding out her hand for another beer. Bruce took one at her and put a glass of water in her hand instead. "A black man asks a question, and he starts talking about inner cities. Un-fucking-believable." She downed the drink. "Aw, man, Bruce, why'd you cut me off? The room hasn't even started spinning yet!"

The end of Hillary's second response prompted an interruption from Trump, but before he could even begin, Simmons had already snatched the remote and hit _mute_. "I can already predict his response," she deadpanned, taking another large sip of her drink. "I'VE HEARD PEOPLE SAY THESE THINGS," she began, pushing her lips out and squinting. "WORDS WORDS TREMENDOUS BLAH BLAH POOPIE PANTS. Honestly, up yours!" she exclaimed, holding up a peace sign towards the TV.

"What grace," Bobbi snickered, holding back her laughter with the rest of them. "What British."

* * *

**October 19**

"_He's a puppet of the Russian government -_"

"_No, you're the puppet. And I have nothing to do with the Russian government. Putin and I are not friends, despite what Hillary may say. I am not with the Russian government."_

"I smell alcohol," Tony sniffed the air dramatically. "Which one of you pregamed? You know that's against the rules of election drinking!"

"It's not fair," Bobbi muttered from her spot on the couch. "Simmons always outdrinks me. I don't know how, but she does. I'm the one who's supposed to drink too much during election season, not her."

"'Cause Simmons is a bloody cheater, tha's why!" Fitz yelled from the other side of the room. "You think you're the only one that gets to drinkin' before the debate starts? She's three drinks in by now!"

"Jemma Simmons, you arse!" Hunter called. "You said you were doin' all of your drinking fair and square!" He, Clint and Tony all launched into a round of boisterous boos at the scientist, making Simmons shake her head and give them the middle finger.

"Just to be clear," Callie said loudly, still upset that she hadn't been allowed to join the drinking game, "Who's the puppet again?"

Clint and Tony pointed to Hunter, who pointed at Fitz. He in turn pointed to Simmons, who scoffed and pointed to Clint. "So, literally everyone," Skye deadpanned, taking a swig of her drink. "Lovely. Never depend on us to save the Earth."

"_Putin is not my best friend. I have nothing to do with the Russian government, as I have said before." _

"That's right, I forgot," May muttered under her breath. "It's Kim Jong-un." Coulson burst into snorts of laughter, nearly inhaling his drink up his nose. Steve had to pat him on the back several times.

"Putin is _not _my best friend," Tony mocked, taking on an impression of Trump. "He's my best friend FOREVER, okay? It makes a difference. Bigly." He shuddered and down his entire shot. "I never want to hear the word 'bigly' again."

"Obviously, you weren't meant to hear that," Clint deadpanned. "When he said that, the microphones weren't supposed to be recording, so you were supposed to disregard that." He rolled his eyes, cracking open another can of beer. "I bet somewhere, Putin's burning all of his friendship bracelets right now."

Natasha snorted. "He probably is. I know for a fact he has them." Clint and Tony stared at her. "Yeah. One for each of the countries he's on good terms with. They get passed down through the years. Did you know the German one has a swastika on it?"

* * *

THUMP.

"Oh, bloody hell, Simmons is out," Fitz groaned. He put his own drink down, picking her up with a sigh. "I'll see evr'ybody in the morning. If I don't make it, you know what happened." Most of them raised their glasses, cans and bottles in farewell, never taking their eyes off of the screen.

"Five bucks says Morse is next," Coulson whispered to May. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Morse? Have you _ever _seen Morse drink?" she asked. "No way. It's totally going to be Hunter. He's such a lightweight." Eyebrows raised, he accepted the bet, slapping a five-dollar bill into her hand.

He was proved wrong not even ten minutes later, when Bobbi was unforgivingly dragging Hunter from the room, his feet sparking occasionally from the friction in his socks. May smirked as Coulson groaned, downing the rest of his beer.

"You know, there's really only one pity about this entire debate," Skye said with relish, twirling a bottle in her hand. "The microphone's covering his neck vagina." The remaining men choked on their drinks, Steve turning a shade of red usually reserved for Natasha's hair.

"_Skye,_" Coulson said, pained. "You're grounded for a month."

"Wha - what the _hell_, DC?" Skye demanded. "You're not my dad! And you can't ground me for a month!" She took a sip of beer almost defyingly. "I'm too old to be grounded! Being grounded stops when you start drinking!"

"Really?!" Callie and Nicky exclaimed in unison. Natasha shot Skye a withering look before turning to both kids.

"No, as usual, your Aunt Skye's lying," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes when she was met with protests. "You can get grounded as long as you live under Uncle Tony's roof, you hear me?"

"Yes, mom."

* * *

**November 8**

"EVERYBODY UP!" Joey, Elena and Steve had taken it upon themselves to rouse every inhabitant in the Tower by banging incessantly on the pots and pans they'd liberated from the kitchen.

"Up, up, up!" Elena proclaimed fake-cheerfully when Mack opened the door, sleep all over his face. "Time to go ad do your civic duty! I'm sorry," she whispered when Mack didn't budge. "Steve promised me pancakes." He just rolled his eyes and shut the door. "Make sure you get ready!" She pounded on the door. "Whoever gets the most people up wins an extra stack of pancakes!"

"Nooooooooooooooooo," Callie grumbled, stuffing her pillow over her head to drown out the sound of banging. She peeked at the clock for a second, swearing under her breath when she made out a 7. "IT'S TOO EARLY!" she hollered at the door. "LET ME GET UP LATER!"

"Callie, open the door or I swear I'll melt your doorknob." Oh, so it was _blackmail _now, Callie grumbled mentally as she wrenched open the door, made a grunt at Joey, and slammed it shut again, stumbling back towards the bed. "And you'd better not be going back to bed!"

"I do what I want," Callie yelled to him. "I'm 18." Her newfound state of sleep lasted all of a minute and a half, broken by Bobbi poking her head into the vents, a chipper look on her face.

"Up up, Cals. I'll take you for some IHOP if you get up and vote early." For the second time, the teenager cracked an eye open, giving Bobbi an apprehensive look. "I promise. I won't even judge you when you put all of the syrup on the pancakes."

"You'd better not judge me." Callie rolled out of bed and towards the closet, studiously ignoring Bobbi's judging stare as she went across the room. "You said you wouldn't judge!"

"I'm not...but I didn't know you still liked _Despicable Me_. I thought you grew out of that phase."

"Shut _up_, Aunt Bobbi."

* * *

"Psst. Nicky. Nicky. Niiiickkyyy."

"Go 'way, Dad, 'm sleeping..." Nicky swatted at an imaginary Clint, rolling over before promptly falling back asleep. The older Barton wasn't deterred, however, and was soon met with a bucket of ice cold water, scaring him awake. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

"_LANGUAGE!" _

"Oh come on, Steve!" Clint yelled back. "And get out of my vents!" He turned to Nicky, who was still groggily trying to wipe himself dry. "Here's a towel. Now get up. We have to vote, yes, but your Uncle Lance is still passed out and I want you to wake him up."

"What." Nicky glared up at him. "You woke me up and you want me to poke a sleeping bear?"

"Technically, it's a _hungover _sleeping bear," Clint corrected. "Which isn't actually as bad. But it's still pretty bad. And you always did say you wanted to prank Hunter."

"I'm going to regret this," Nicky said to the open as Clint hoisted him into the vents, both of them crawling in the direction of Hunter's room. "I'm definitely going to regret this because I can't crawl as fast you can and you're gonna leave me to Hunter like you did the last time - "

"Nicky," Clint scolded jokingly. "All we have to do his pour the water on his head and crawl away as fast as we can. There's nothing difficult involved. I know it wasn't fair to ask you last time to dump the bucket of maggots, but in my defense, I had to handle them." He quietly removed Hunter's vent cover, handing the bucket of water to his son. "Ready?"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL -"

"GO GO GO!" Clint yelled at Nicky, and the two of them began to crawl back to his room as fast as they could, holding in their snickers at Hunter's supposed stumbling around his room. Laughing, they dropped back into Nicky's room, catching their breath. "But do get dressed," he said seriously when they recovered. "We're going out to vote."

* * *

Callie and Nicky were both grinning from ear to ear as they emerged with their little _I Voted _stickers, sticking them onto their foreheads almost immediately. "Well, _some _things never change," Natasha sighed as she high-fived both of them.

"I voted, and it's before 9 in the morning," Callie shot back. "And Aunt Bobbi promised she'd take me to IHOP. I haven't gotten up this early in years. I want pancakes."

"Geez," Bobbi muttered. "You promise a kid pancakes, and suddenly they're the whiniest kid in the world. Come on, Cals. You're probably hungry, let's go eat before you kill a man in the streets." Nicky was left to stare as both of them headed down the street, his stomach growling with patriotism and a need for sugar.

"So sorry I can't take your for pancakes, mate, I'm not girly-girl like that," Hunter was suddenly at his side, a surprisingly still hand on his shoulder given all that he'd drunk the night before. Nicky shrugged off his hand, trying to bite back his disappointment. "I know this pretty good diner down the street, though." Hunter gave him a crooked grin. "They've got this 10-pound hash brown challenge I've been meaning to try out for a while now. You wanna watch Fitz try and drown himself in a sack of potatoes?"

"Oh, please _do _come," Simmons begged. "There's two of them and only one of me, and, well, it wouldn't do very well for me if both of them happened to have too many carbohydrates, and you _know _how both of them get when they have too many!"

"Bug off, Jem," Fitz muttered. "It was that one time."

"Too late, no choice, you're going, mate," Hunter answered, slinging an arm around Nicky and half-dragging him down the street. "All the hash browns we can eat, here we come!"

* * *

**8PM**

"I don't get why we're watching," Skye said later that night as everyone piled into the living room for one last time, drinks in hand. "If Hillary's supposed to win the election by a good margin, can't we all just go to bed early and call it a night? Cals and I are supposed to go to an eating contest tomorrow."

"Because you're being a good citizen, Johnson," Mack rolled his eyes as he slid down next to her. "Besides, it could get to be a close race. You never know."

Clint flipped the TV on, and instantly the room was filled with groans. "44 only?!" he demanded. "What the fuck is going on with this country?"

"It's early," Natasha reminded him, placing a hand on his arm. "California is always Democratic, and they come in later, just remember. It's still anyone's race."

"I think 'anyone's race' constitutes a drink," Hunter muttered loudly, opening his beer. "If we have to watch sober, I'm out of this room faster than you can say 'they're not actually building a wall'." Several mutters of 'cheers' were exchanged and bottles tipped back, both Barton children watching with envious awe.

"How about we turn on the TV every half hour?" Steve suggested as the moderator launched into the same political analysis of the election for the third time in ten minutes. He hit the mute button, laughing at Skye, Callie and Nicky's cries of relief. "We can do something else while we wait."

"Drink," Bobbi proclaimed loudly, raising her glass. "And for the young'uns, y'all can play a game of Monopoly or something." Both kids were silent as they just stared.

"Nicky," Callie said finally. "No matter what the outcome of the election, no matter how late we stay up, we're getting up before Aunt Bobbi tomorrow and pitching her stash of Chardonnay out the window." Nicky nodded. "And maybe we'll burn her closet, too."

"Don't you think that's a little harsh, Cals?"

"Nicky, she literally just called us _kids_. That's only for Uncle Tony when he's being immature."

"Hey!"

"Stop being a kid, Stark," Natasha deadpanned. "Just drink and maybe you won't remember anything embarrassing you do tonight."

"Burn the closet it is, then," Tony said to Callie. "I'll break into your mother's vodka stash."

* * *

**9PM**

"EYY NEW YORK!" Tony and Clint cheered, high-fiving as New York was finally declared blue. They sobered a little as they regarded the rest of the country, most of it swathed in red. Nicky was curled up against his father's side, watching the screen with apprehension written all over his face.

Elena sighed. "It _is _only New York," she reminded them. "A good chance of victory has to include Ohio, Florida or Michigan. All three would help." She, unlike most of them, was nursing only her first beer, sitting with Joey in quiet solidarity.

Clint popped open another beer, taking a swig of it. "I don't even know what to say about Florida, to be honest," he grumbled. "It's a fucking shitshow." He turned to look at Steve, who was wearing a Clinton T-shirt. "Hey, where'd you even get that? I want one!"

"You're not Captain America," Natasha snorted. "Become a symbol of this country, and then we'll talk about it."

Skye looked up from her phone. "More Republican senators, guys. This isn't going to turn out well for Congress." She looked at Coulson. "Are you _sure _I can't hack the election? Please? I'd go down in history if I did! I could make someone good senator! Hell, I could make _you _senator! Or Steve!"

May snorted from her spot on the other side of the room. "I'm not sure Captain Rogers meets the age requirements to become senator, Skye. Although I wouldn't discourage you from putting Phil in."

Coulson pouted.

* * *

**10PM**

"There it is," Bobbi called out as Clinton's score went up once more. "Good ole California, loyal until the end." She settled back onto the couch, where she had prepared several noisemakers and party hats. "It's only a matter of time."

Simmons gave her a long look. "If you keep drinking like that, it'll only be a matter of time for your liver." Bobbi just rolled her eyes and cracked open another bottle of wine, pouring herself a glass instead of chugging it straight.

"There, I'm having it _in moderation. _You happy?"

"Aunt Jemma, don't," Callie tried to begin, but was cut off by Simmons' huff.

"Frankly, Bobbi, I'm disappointed at the rate you've been drinking during this election season," Simmons began, standing so that she was taller than the blonde agent. "You, of all people, should know the example that sets on the younger people in this Tower. Think about what you're teaching them! And yes, Callie, I know you're not that young," she said before Callie could protest, "but you're still impressionable. Bobbi's behavior is just _not _norm for social drinking."

"She's old enough to know what's right and what's not," Bobbi argued, her speech slightly slurred as she emptied her glass. "She knows I'm a million shade of fucked up, so why the hell not? Besides, this election's going to shit," she muttered, refilling it again. "Might as well get shitfaced along with it."

"You, Barbara Morse, are a shite excuse for a human being!" Simmons shrieked shrilly, causing the whole room to go silent and turn towards the argument. Fitz was one-handedly trying to turn off the TV with the remote, clicking it uselessly before Mack snatched it from him and turned it off himself. Even Bobbi was staring at Simmons with a hint of surprise, her wineglass hanging loosely from her hand.

"Say that again," she challenged quietly, setting the alcohol down. "I dare you to say that again, Jemma."

"You - what you're doing - is being a shite excuse for a human being," Simmons ranted. "You think that, just because the election isn't going the way you want it to go, that you can just laugh and drink it off like nothing is going to happen. You act like nothing is going to change because of this election, and you can just drink it all away!" She smacked the wineglass off of the table, Joey leaping to catch it. "I've got _news _for you, Barbara," she hissed. "Whether you choose denial via alcoholism or not, things are going to change."

"Of course I know they're going to change," Bobbi shot back, standing and reclaiming her role as the taller one. "You think that I'm not _scared, _Simmons? You think I'm not scared that we could very well elect a sexist, rapist, homophobic, racist, xenophobic _asshole _with absolutely no experience in politics whatsoever? You think I don't give a damn about this election?" When Simmons tried to respond, she held up a hand. "No, _you _listen for a fucking second. If Trump wins this election, there's a lot of people who are going to be fucking screwed, a few of them who are in this room right fucking now. There's a ton of women in this room. That's one. Even the men in this room - it'll be just like the 1940's all over again. The _people of color _in this room, Jemma. You think I'm not scared for them? You think I don't think about how they'll always have the opportunity to be mocked and teased? The fucking _LGBTQ+ _youth, Jemma. I'm fucking scared for them, too. I'm _scared, _Simmons." Bobbi opened another drink. "And if drinking is the only way I can stave off what looks like appointing the beginning of the end, then I'm fucking going to do it." She gave Simmons a withering glare. "I'm a straight, white, American-born citizen, but I'm still a fucking woman. And I'm _damn _scared."

Everyone just slowly turned back to the TV screen.

* * *

**11PM**

"_And it looks like Florida has gone to Trump..."_

"MOTHERFUCKING SHIT!" They all turned to see Elena seething with fury, one step away from punching the wall. "How could you?!" she demanded of the TV, the alcohol blotching her face. "How could you intentionally vote for someone that wants to send you back to where you came from?"

"I..." Coulson could only sit in shock. "I thought she was going to win Florida." May said nothing, only patted his shoulder in sympathy as she tried to digest the news. "This is it. It's over. He's going to win."

"It's not over until she concedes," Callie seethed. "I _refuse _to believe my first election is going to turn out this way. It's not gonna," she said, partly to herself. "It can't. There has to be some miracle."

"I'd best go tell Simmons," Fitz said, heaving himself off of the couch. The aforementioned scientist had fled to her room in tears after her confrontation with Bobbi, locking herself up and refusing to come out until morning. The shriek of 'NO!' a few minutes later did nothing to comfort them, Callie crawling over to Elena and Joey to give them a huge hug.

"Ah, it'll work out," Elena said reassuringly, her voice choked. "I'll survive. I came from an oppressive government, remember?"

"It's not the same," Callie mumbled. "'Specially for you, Uncle Joey."

"I'm good at acting straight," Joey joked, and they all saddened. At what point had he been in so much danger that he'd gotten _good _at being something he wasn't meant to be? "I just, uh...let's see, who's available here...?"

"Don't you dare," Lincoln called from across the room for the first time that night. It made Skye laugh, effectively relieving some of the tension in the room. Joey shot him a grin, laughing himself.

Mack sighed, flipping through his phone. "Sir," he called to Coulson. "Is it safe to assume Trump's stance on Inhumans runs the same to terrorists?" Coulson frowned at that - he hadn't thought that far ahead. Neither presidential candidate had put up a stance on Inhumans; he expected it to be an elect-by-elect basis.

He nodded. "Until we get better word, assume that."

Skye pouted. "So you're saying I _can't _quake the White House as soon as he moves in?"

"You're acting like it's already over," Nicky reminded her. "It's not over yet."

* * *

**2:32AM**

"He won."

Bruce's muted declaration seemed to slow the world down, all of them turning to the TV to see Trump supporters celebrating on screen. It was official: the red bar had passed the 270 mark, the sad blue bar seeming to recede the longer they looked at it.

"What's this mean, then?" Callie asked, her question quiet amongst the shock reverberating through the teams. "Is this it? Is this the beginning of the end?"

"It's..." Natasha struggled to find an answer. Was this really the world she was passing on to her children? One where she had to teach her daughter how to take down men twice her size, where Mack and Sam were always looked at with wary eyes? Where Elena being heckled in the streets was almost always going to be a certainty? "I don't know what it is,"

"You guys are going to be okay, right?" Nicky asked, looking around the Bus team. "Uncle Mack? Uncle Joey? Aunt Elena? Uncle Sam?" The four of them nodded.

"We're SHIELD agents - and Avengers," Mack added quickly when he caught Sam beginning to protest. "We're better prepared than most, but that doesn't mean that we're not going to fight for those who aren't prepared."

Steve nodded. "There's a fight going on the country, and it's our duty to protect it. To protect those that can't necessarily protect themselves."

Bobbi's eyes were dark, glistening with tears. "This isn't the beginning of the end, Cals. It's the end of a beginning no one ever gets to see." She gripped her niece's hands. "This is _not _the world you're going to grow up in. And if it means fighting for a better one until I die of old age, so be fucking it." Beside her, Hunter nodded. "The only question is, are _you _willing to fight for it?"

"You can all begin fighting _tomorrow, _after you've all gotten some sleep," Pepper said sternly, walking into the living room. Her eyes were fatigued and red-rimmed, her own sign she'd been crying. "I'm not sure anyone would take a bunch of half-asleep Avengers fighting all of the riots in the city very well."

"I can't get up," Clint groaned. "My head hurts." Natasha sighed, and with Steve and Thor, got up to get blankets and pillows.

* * *

**3:30AM**

"Hey, Cals?" Nicky whispered later that night, as they were squished between a mixture of Clint, Natasha, Bobbi and Hunter. "You know I've always got your six, right?"

Callie chuckled sleepily. "I can take care of myself, Nikolai," But she gave him a thumbs-up all the same. "And I've got your ten."

* * *

**The results of this year's election weren't what anyone expected. No matter what side you were on, I'm sure you were surprised about the results. For those who were disappointed, this isn't the end. Fight. Fight like you've never fought before. For those who were satisfied, good for you. Just please don't try to put us in the Dark Ages, thanks. Despite it all, one common movement remains: voting. Voting is so, so, _so _important, and if you didn't this time around, or if you couldn't, _please _do so the next time you can. The best thing you can do to change your future is to make sure you have a say in it. **


End file.
